Ermergerd-Lock: A Study in Pink
by accio-feels
Summary: A woman in pink lies dead. She is the fourth in a series of impossible suicides. DI Lestrade is Scotland Yard's best, but there's only one who can help. Elsewhere in London, a war hero, invalided home from Afghanistan, meets a strange, charismatic genius who is looking for a flatmate; Jawn Wats-Off and Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes meet for the first time. Lots of swearing!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **_Hey, darling reader!_

_This is my latest project in which I made a parody of _Sherlock. _This is the actual first episode but just... parody-ised... ? I don't know what to call it. I've just made fun of everything and everyone. No offense is intended._

_I used transcripts from . com, I just changed majority of the words, except Mycroft's because I didn't fully wanna parody-ise him._

_Also, there is a **lot **of swearing. I mean a **LOT! **I think this would technically be rated M for swearing but I don't really like to put stuff as M because my target audience are less likely to see the story and, well, I like getting reads and reviews because it makes me feel warm and fuzzy on the inside :3_

_Righty-o._

_Enjoy!_

_x_

* * *

Jawn Wats-Off jolted awake, fear coursing through his veins.

"I don't suck," he sobbed out before clutching his pillow to his chest. His Post-Traumatic Insult Disorder was getting the better of him and he continued to be insulted every time he drifted to sleep.

* * *

A few hours later, Jawn hobbled over to his desk, swinging around his cane as he walked. He put down a bruised apple that he wouldn't eat and a mug of tea, the mug bearing the arms of the Royal Army Medical Corps. He sat down and opened his laptop, chucking the walking stick across the room. Jawn frowned at the screen. What was he going to write about? _The personal blog of Dr. Jawn H Wats-Off_ was a blank screen, not a single other word tarnishing the whiteness.

* * *

"How's your blog goin', lil bitch?" Elizza, Jawn's therapist, asked.

"Brilliant. Gone viral, you'll probably see it on the news soon," he responded, clearing his throat afterwards.

Elizza gave him the 'I-know-you're-lying-idiot' look before sighing. "You haven't written a word, have ya? You'll never amount to anything."

Little Jawn looked down at her pad of paper. "You just wrote 'still has trust issues'."

"Yeah, 'cause ya do!" she replied, rolling her eyes. "If ya couldn't read it, I wouldn't have written it, shitdick!" Elizza shook her head. "Jawn, you're a soldier, you fight for peeps to be cool and shizzle. It's gon be hard for you to realise you're just an average bro. Write your blog, bitch! It'll make ya feel less like shit! Write everything that happens to ya!"

Jawn felt his eyes well with tears as he shook his head. "Things don't happen to me."

As he started to talk some more, he was cut off by the sound of some fantastic, new TV theme song that he'd never heard of before. He shrugged and decided to go with it. Things don't happen to him and he wasn't going to write about this in his blog.

* * *

A sharp ass bitch walked through a London railway station, a phone to his ear and people pushing past him. He was beyond furious. He looked at his watch to reveal that the date was October 12th. Remember that, it may be important later in life.

"What d'ya mean, you didn't send a car?" he growled out to his assistant, Gwen, the woman he was secretly having an affair with behind his wife's back.

Gwen was in the office getting horny with rage. Sure, she was his assistant, didn't mean he had to be a dick about it, not that she really minded… She walked across the room, trying not to let other people hear the conversation.

"You went to Waterloo. Not my problem, get a cab," she told him, rolling her eyes, her hunger for him growing in a weird sort of way.

"I never get cabs. Besides, why can't you send a car now?" he asked.

Gwen looked around one more time. "ILY."

"Don't care, get me a car."

"Get a cab," she giggled out.

She hung up, excited for when he returned. Sir Jeffery, the boss ass bitch, was looking around for a cab to take.

"Stupid woman," he muttered to himself. "I just want a car. Don't trust them cabbies…"

* * *

A bit later, not too sure when, Sir Jeffery is sitting on the floor by a window of a hella big building. It's empty, clear of any and all furniture. He unscrewed a little glass bottle that contained three huge ass capsules.

"FML," he muttered before tipping one into his hand.

He lifted it to his mouth and looked up, almost as if he were locking eyes with someone. Nek minute, he was frothing from the mouth, withering on the floor in agony. If only there was someone there who could help him. If only someone was in the room with him and could put him out of his misery. Like, a cabbie, for example.

* * *

At a police press conference, a woman, Sir Jeffery's wife, was sitting at a table making a statement.

"My husband was hella happy. He did lots of shit and loved his family and work. For him to commit the suicide is like, woah! What?" Margaret Patterson said, dry eyed. It's almost as if she was hiding something… "Also, my cat, Whiskers, went missing the other day. We haven't seen her in days." She started to sob while pulling out a photo from her bag. "If anyone has seen her, please, a hundred dollar reward! We just miss her so much!"

No-one paid attention to the woman on the other side of the room. Gwen was trying not to cry. She was horny with grief. Tears streamed down her face. No-one realised that she had more emotions than the wife. Not for the cat, obvs. She missed her boss who she was having an affair with behind Margaret's back.

* * *

A few weeks later, on November 26th to be precise, two boys in their late teens, Jimmy and Gary, were running though a dark, rainy night. Gary pulled out a bright green umbrella with frogs on it. Jimmy pulled the jacket over his head and sighed.

"Oi! Yeah! Taxi! Bitch, stop!" he called out, trying to hail the cab. It was defs for hire, an idiot could see that. "Well, FML!" Jimmy said before yelling at Gary over the wind. "I'll be back soon!"

"Where are you going?" Gary asked, beginning to sweat. It was a dark and stormy night and he was scared of, like, people trying to poison him and make it look like suicide. He was also afraid of catching cabs alone as well as foreshadowing and avoided it at every cost.

"Ta get mummy's umbrella! She got a hella cute one with lady bugs on it," Jimmy said, grinning psychotically.

"You can share mine! It's super quiche too!" Gary tried. TBH, he just wanted to get Jimmy under his umbrella with him.

"Two minutes! I promise! I've I'm late, I'll give you my Xbox!" Jimmy called before running back the way they came.

Gary's face fell as he watched Jimmy run. He looked at his watch two minutes later. The kid lied! He began to cry. He was gonna find Jimmy and slap him before snogging him senseless.

* * *

But it was too late. Jimmy was already clutching a small glass bottle containing three large capsules. This, however, was nothing like Sir Jeffery, that boss ass bitch, because Jimmy was crying. Also, take no notice of the fact their names both start with J… that is meaningless. Probably. He turned around and looked out the window, revealing a large sports court. People were playing squash or something. They were getting pretty angry, too, and one of them hit the ball super-duper hard. It flew back and hit their opponent in the eye. Now two people were crying, but only one brought a capsule to his mouth. It was Jimmy, by the way, in case you missed that.

* * *

Jimmy isn't a very cool kid and so no-one held a press conference. Instead, he was in the paper, page seven. The Daily Express had the headline "Boy, 18, kills himself inside sports centre". The journalist responsible for the headline was sacked the next day because that was a pretty shit title. Something with adventure like "18 year old boy breaks into sports centre and kills himself while Prime Minister loses eye playing squash with opposition leader" instead of this straight to the point shit! Like, I'd read that! Kid kills himself and the PM lost an eye because opposition leader went feral!

No-one remembered to mention Gary. In fact, no-one even told him. He found out when he read the paper the next morning. Now who was he going to slap for leaving and then snog senseless?

Everyone began to forget about Gary and Jimmy. They were pretty pointless to the plot, though. Just forget you read anything except Jawn Wats-Off's stuff.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Hi there, darling reader!_

_Just a heads up, i__f you have an AO3 account, this story is also there :) Also, __I'll be posting a lot of this in the next few weeks, I think. I've got about 4 weeks of holidays and no friends, so that works out well for everyone! :)_

_Have a nice day, and enjoy reading!_

_X_

* * *

It was January the 27th when the next offense was committed. There was a large b-day party being held for Beth Gimme-Port, Junior Minister for Transport. You don't have to remember that, though. It's not that cool.

She was twerking on the dance floor, an awkward space around her as everyone tried to get that imageout of their heads.

A man named Boris stood at the bar and took another swig at the bottle of wine. Damn Beth demanding they had a party, and then she got pissed three minutes in! He shook his head and looked over at the cake. They weren't going to eat it; Beth already had a stab at eating it and it was a mess. She was covered in the missing portion of the cake.

Someone walked out of the main room where Beth was twerking and over to the man standing by the bar.

"Is she still twerking?" he asked, taking another swig.

The woman, Rebecca, rolled her eyes and nodded. "If you can even call it that. I got her keys from her bag. She left it on the sidelines. Dreadful sight."

The man nodded and smiled. "At least the Junior Minister for Transport isn't going to crash her car tonight. How awks would that be?" They both shared a knowing glance (Beth was going to crash next time she got in her car. She's a pretty shit driver, ironically). "Wait, where is she?" he asked, peering into the room where everyone was staring to have fun again.

* * *

Beth was standing in front of her car, throwing things from her bag. "Are you shitting me?" she grumbled, pulling more and more stuff out. "Fuck me."

She looked around, hoping to find someone who could give her a lift, like a bus, or a cab. Wow, this gets more and more ironic, doesn't it? The minister of transport looking for transport. Haha! It was one of her last acts…

* * *

Inside one of them portable box things at building sites where the builders keep stuff and hang out, I'd imagine, Beth began to cry. As she did so, she reached out with a trembling hand, reaching towards a small glass bottle with three large capsules inside. It's almost as if someone was giving them all the same poison. Maybe someone would find this link… maybe someone would figure it all out… someone with a hella rad name that no-one's really ever heard of and the name makes people think 'ermergerd, what?'.

* * *

There was a second police press conference a few weeks later. Detective Inspector Gavin Lestrade was sitting at a table, facing the press with a trembling lip. He hated people and here he was, talking to them about something to do with some chick he didn't care for. All bloody pollies are the same; corrupt! Someone coughed in the audience and Lestrade winced. They were gonna contaminate him with their airborne disease!

Sergeant Sally Minivan sat beside him and kicked off the conference. "Beth Gimme-Port, Junior Minister for Transport, was found late last night, dead as a doornail, on a building site in Greater London. No fricken clue how she got there; she was drunk as shit. At first glance, it seemed to be a suicide. Totes is, BTW. We can totes say it was a suicide like that of Sir Jeffrey Patterson and James Pheelermore. You probably don't remember them. It was last year. Just rack your brains a bit. So we're treating this as linked coz it weird as shit. Like, no-one really cares for Jimmy so we thought, hey, might be a coinkydink. But, nah, Beth too- this is sus. This is as sus as a Muslim going through airport security, everyone. So, we're lookin' into it, don't worry. Lestrade, my good friend here will say some more on it," she said, patting Lestrades arm.

"Don't touch me," he hissed, jerking his arm away before smothering the place she touched with hand sanitiser.

"Detective Inspector, how can suicides be linked?" some fuckwit reporter asked.

"Same poison, places all isolated and unnecessary for them to be. Also, none were suicidal or had any-"

"But you can't have serial suicides," the same reporter interrupted.

"Bitch, I wasn't done yet," Lestrade growled. "None were suicidal or had any motive for death, such as a mental illness. Now, any questions? Well, apparently, you _can_ have serial suicides. Did you not listen to anything we've been saying?" Lestrade replied sarcastically before looking over at Minivan with a frown.

"These three people: there's nothing that links them?" another reporter asked.

'_Finally_,' Lestrade thought. '_Someone's_ _asking_ _the_ _right_ _questions_!' "There's no link been found yet, but we're looking for it. We're 99% sure there will be."

Everyone in the room suddenly received a mass text. All it said was "Wrong!" Minivan looked down at her phone and groaned.

"If y'all bitches got text's, ignore them. The sender is just tryin' to fuck with ya."

The first reporter, that fuckwit, replied with "Just says, 'Wrong'."

"No shit, dick wit! Ignore it. Now, if we have no more questions for Lestrade, here, I'mma kick you little bitches out."

"But if they're suicides, what are you investigating?" the second reporter asked.

"Are you all fucking kidding me?! Is no-one paying attention?! There's a link and we're looking for it! We've got the best of the best investigating. Fuck me," Lestrade grumbled, crossing his arms and giving a pointed look at Minivan. "I'm not doing the next one of this. These reporters are idiots."

Again, everyone's mobiles when off, the same message displayed as before.

"Says, 'Wrong' again," the first reporter said once more.

Lestrade looked over at Minivan with his usual look of 'please-kill-them-all-now'.

The Sergeant looked at the reporters with a stony face. "One more question. Make it good bitches."

The final question was raised by a woman who was clearly digging for something interesting. This conference was shit. "Is there any chance that these are murders, and if they are, is this the work of a serial killer?"

Lestrade rolled his eyes. Did no-one pay attention anymore? "Are you fucking kidding me? We know the difference between murder and suicides. The poison was obviously self-administered. A blind man could see that!"

"Yes, but if they are murders," the reporter continued, "how do people keep themselves safe?"

Lestrade was beyond done. What the fuck had he gotten himself into? One more press conference and he was gonna quit! This was bullshit. "Well, don't commit suicide."

The reporter looked shocked. Well, what did she expect? Actual advice? It's still a fucking suicide, woman! They hadn't even found the link, yet!

Minivan covered her mouth and muttered to Lestrade "Daily Mail."

He tried to hide his grimace at his foolish remark. Daily Mail had such a large audience and that was shit publicity. He looked at the reporters again. "We get you kids are scared. Hell, I'd be too, if I wasn't a police and if I didn't have any common sense. Look, just be reasonable. We are all as safe as we want to be."

For the third time in, like, five minutes, the phones went off again with the same message. Lestrade's phone, however, went off a little later.

_You know where to find me. EB_

Of. Fucking. Course. Lestrade put his phone in his pocket and stood up. "Well, fuck you all," he said before walking out.

* * *

A few minutes later, Minivan and Lestrade walked through Scotland Yard, back to Gavin's office.

"Tell him to shut his bitch mouth. He's making us look like shit and that's not fair," Minivan grumbled.

"Well, once you can match his intelligence and tell me how he does it, I'll get him to stop," Lestrade spat back.

"He probably sends a text to everyone in fuckin' England and hopes for the best. Worst case, he breaks up a relationship or two," Minivan replied before putting on a voice. "'I love you,' someone'd say and then they both get a text saying 'wrong'. He wouldn't care. Bloody freak's a psychopath."

Lestrade stopped and looked at Minivan. "Bitch, he's a highly functioning sociopath. Do your research."


	3. Chapter 3

Strutting through a park is the dear protagonist, Jawn Wats-Off. He's got his cane again, throwing it up in the air and catching it as he walks. After a few minutes, someone runs over… well, tries.

"Jawn! Jawn Wats-Off!" the pudgy man called, attempting to run but looking like he's waddling instead.

Jawn spun around, grabbing the stick and frowning at the man. "What?"

"StandDown. Mike StandDown. We were at Bart's together," the man said, still catching up and out of breath.

Jawn's eye twitched but he nodded, nonetheless. "Yes, sorry, Mike. Mikey Mikey Mike. Hi," he said, shaking Mike's hand. He had no clue who this man was but he wasn't going to say anything. Maybe this 'Mike' might get him some coffee… for **freeeeeee!**

The stranger smiled and gestured to himself. He knew Jawn didn't recognise him at first. "Yeah, I know. I got fat!"

Our dear protagonist shook his head. "No. You've always looked so… ravishing." Jawn! What the flip flap? You can't just tell strangers they look ravishing! I mean that's just like the rules of feminism!

Mike beamed at Jawn's compliment and blushed a little. Yeah, he was ravishing! "I heard you were sent outta here to be shot at! What the flip flap paddy wack happened? Why you back, girl?"

The protagonist's eye twitched. Was Mike stalking him? "I got shot."

"No! Shit! Can I see the bullet wound? Does it go all the way through you?" Mike asked, ignoring Jawn's smile.

But Jawn was never one to turn down the offer of showing off his war wound. He pulled down his trousers a bit to show Mike the scar.

"Doesn't go all the way though, I'm afraid. They told me that it was bad or something. Like, exqueeze me for wanting to re-enact Jesus with my leg!" How morbid!

Mike ignored Jawn's stupid, irrelevant comment and looked at the wound. "Wicked!"

* * *

A little later, both Jawn and Mike sat on a park bench, taking sips of coffee they suddenly had. Yes, Mike had payed, to Jawn's delight.

"Are you still at Bart's, then?" Jawn asked, trying to pretend as though he knew this man.

Mike nodded and smiled. "Teaching now. Bright young things, like we used to be. God, I hate them!"

While Jawn gave a small little laugh, clueless as to who this "Mike" was, Mike laughed a hearty laugh that reminded Jawn of a seal or a walrus or one of those…

"What about you?" Mike suddenly asked. "Just staying in town 'til you get yourself sorted?"

Jawn laughed for real and shook his body left and right. His coffee went all over him, not that he cared. The coffee was free and somewhat shit. "I can't afford London on an Army pension!"

"Ah, and you couldn't bear to be anywhere else. That's not the Jawn Wats-Off I know."

Jawn started to feel uncomfortable. Maybe Mike was going to figure out that he didn't know Jawn at all. "Yeah, I'm not the Jawn Wats-Off…"

He stopped and looked over to see Mike looking anywhere but at the protagonist of the story. Mike was probs jelly. Jawn swapped the take-away cup to his other hand. His left hand sometimes began to spazm at bad times. Jawn tried to make a jam sam (jam sandwich) the other day but his hand went mental and nearly cut off the other hand. He was starting to think his left hand was possessed and wanted to be the main hand Jawn used. But Jawn was right handed and he was having none of this "I write with my left hand!" crap. Lefties. Ew.

"Couldn't Harry help?" Mike asked.

Jawn knew who Harry was, his gender fluid sister (as of the moment). "Yeah, like that's gonna happen!" he said sarcastically.

"I dunno – get a flatshare or something?" Mike said with a shrug, trying to brush off the fact he had met the type of person Jawn would fall in love with within minutes.

"Come on," Jawn started. "Who'd want me for a flatmate?"

Mike began to laugh like a maniac, shocking Jawn from his coffee. Jawn jumped, spilling the remainder his coffee all over himself. But he still didn't give a flying fuck.

"What?"

"You're the second person to say that to me today!" Mike wheezed out, feeling a six pack forming.

Cogs began to turn in Jawn's head. Maybe, just maybe, he could scam some more from this "Mike StandDown" character, "Who was the first?"

* * *

After almost half an hour of murder and Jawn meeting a stranger, finally, we met the person of whom the story was named after. At Saint Bartholomew's Hospital, the place StandDown recognised Jawn from, Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes stood in the morgue, unzipping a body bag while humming a suggestive tune from one of his stripper Homeless-Network girls sang. The body on the table was soon revealed to him and he took a deep breath, smelling the orgasmic smell of death.

"How fresh?" Ermergerd-Lock asked as he examined the man in front of him.

The pathologist tripped over her feet and rushed in. Mousy Hula-Hoop ran to Ermergerd-Lock's side and smiled at him, love hearts practically dancing around her head.

"Just in. He was fifty-seventeen and died of natural causes. He used to work here. He was a shit on occasion, but a friendly guy when drunk. I knew him, ya know?

"So, sixty-seven?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, confused as to why she would say fifty-seventeen.

The pathologist blushed and nodded, a smile spreading on her face. Ermergerd-Lock zipped up the bag again and looked at her, smiling a rather false smile that dentist use when they have small children in who they knew will make a shit-ton of noise while they're trying to investigate the teeth. Damn children.

"Delish. We'll start with the riding crop," he told her.

* * *

Nek minute, the body was out of the bag and lying on its back on the table. Mousy was in the observation room next door, watching and flinching as Ermergerd-Lock raised the riding crop and hitting the corpse repetitively.

"That's for rejecting all my sexual advances! That's for being a woman who can make choices! That's for giving me a shit time in college first year! That's for me being a virgin still! Fuck you!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled while hammering down on the corpse of the man he never met.

* * *

Mousy entered the room a few minutes after he had finished and smiled. "So, bad day, was it?" she joked.

"Elliot Roger could learn a thing or two about handling emotions. Stupid child. He was their friend and he betrayed them. HE WAS THEIR FRIEND!" Ermergerd-Lock suddenly screamed in Mousy Hula-Hoop's face. "Apologies." He cleared his throat before taking out a notebook and making a note. As a general note, Elliot Roger was that idiot kid in America who recently went around and shot up the place because he was still a virgin. He is an absolute idiot, hence Ermergerd-Lock's fury which is, incidentally, the writers fury, too. "I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man's alibi depends on it. Text me, girl. But only for that."

"Listen, I was wondering: maybe later, when you're finished…" Mousy started, ringing her fingers.

Ermergerd-Lock froze and looked at her. "Are you wearing stuff on your lips? That wasn't there before."

"I, er, I r-r- refreshed it a bit," she replied, nerves beginning to get the better of her. She tried to smile flirtatiously but Ermergerd-Lock was oblivious to her attempt, her weak attempt.

He began to write in his note book again. "Sorry. Continue."

"I-I-I-I was wondering if you'd like to have coffee," she stuttered out. Sometimes, Mousy had a really bad stutter but only around Ermergerd-Lock or on rainy days.

He put his notebook away and smiled at her. "Black, two sugars, please. I'll be upstairs," he told her before flicking his non-existent hair over his shoulder and strutting away.

Mousy paused and looked at the ground. "K."


	4. Chapter 4

Up in the lab of Bart's, Ermergerd-Lock stood at the end of the lab tables, as far from the door as possible. He liked to hide from people when they walked in. He was using a pipette to squeeze one drop onto a Petri dish. Any more than one and Ermergerd-Lock had to restart his entire experiment from scratch.

As he hovered over the dish, squeezing the single drop into it, the slammed open and Ermergerd-Lock accidently squirted all the liquid in.

"Son of a-"

"Well, bit different from my day," some idiot said, ruining the entire experiment.

Ermergerd-Lock got those ingredients from all over the globe. He hadn't expected some idiot from, like, sixty-billion years ago to come in and fuck it up. Ergo, he only got enough ingredients for one shot. He looked up and saw a Shawty with blonde hair. A veteran from war. Oh, Ermergerd-Lock couldn't abuse him, not morally anyway. His cover had been blown and now Ermergerd-Lock couldn't hide from the intruders.

Of course, we all know the veteran as the fabby-dabby Jawn Wats-Off. Mike StandDown was standing next to him, beaming around the room, locking eyes with the bro and his ruined experiment.

"You've no idea!" Mike said, beaming at Ermergerd-Lock.

He (Ermergerd-Lock) sat down and looked at Mike. "Oi, kid, can I borrow your phone? I've run out of credit. I was texting the press recently and forgot to top up."

"W-what's wrong with the landline?" Mike stuttered out. His eyes may as well've turned into hearts with how much he was crushing on Ermergerd-Lock.

"My person can't be contacted by call, you twit."

Mike reached into his bra and sighed. "Sorry. It's in my coat. I think I left that in the park. Well, fuck me!"

Jawn reaches to what Ermergerd-Lock assumed was his back pocket and pulled out his phone. It was his back pocket, by the way. In his trousers.

"Er, you can use mine as long as you don't subscribe me for anything," Jawn said, handing it out to Ermergerd-Lock.

There was a pause before taking the phone. "Thanks, bitchacho!"

Ermergerd-Lock sent daggers to Mike who seemed to wake from a trance. "It's an old friend of mine, Jawn Wats-Off," he said, not really making sense. Why would someone use 'it's' when describing someone?

The bro with the phone turned it over before flipping the keypad and starting to type. "Afghanistand or Iraqu?"

Jawn frowned while Mike nodded, knowing what was going down.

"Exqueeze me?" Jawn asked, crossing his arms.

"Which was it?" Ermergerd-Lock asked again. "Afghanistand or Iraqu?"

Jawn looked at Mike, confused out of his mind, before responding. "Afghanistan. Sorry, did you say Iraq with a 'u' on the end?"

The pathologist, Mousy Hula-Hoop, walked in, holding a mug full to the rim. She was careful not to spill a drop. "Ah, Moose, coffee. Thank." He never really remembered names. He was working on it. Ermergerd-Lock handed back Jawn's phone and took the mug from Mousy. He raised it in the air, no care for the coffee, and threw the coffee over his face. "Ah!" he said, as though he had taken a delish swig. The coffee was dripping all over him and Jawn realised they looked the same now.

"K," Mousy muttered before turning around.

"Hold up a diddly-darn second," he suddenly said, stopping her in her tracks. "What happened to the lipstick?"

"I-i-it wasn't working for me."

Ermergerd-Lock snorted, very un-ladylike. "Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth's too small now. LOL! Am I right, Jawn?"

The veteran just looked alarmed at the interaction and Mousy nodded. "K."

She began to walk out when Ermergerd-Lock started to talk again. "How do you feel about the violin?"

Jawn looked over at Mousy who was making an unattractive 'I'm-not-gonna-cry' face. He looked over at Mike who looked as though he was a Japanese school girl in a Hello-Kitty factory. "M-me?" he stuttered out like someone with a huge crush.

With a roll of his eyes, Ermergerd-Lock started to type furiously on his computer. "I play the violin when I'm thinking. Sometimes I don't talk for days on end. When I do, it's usually something extraordinarily sexual that may make you feel uncomfortable." Ermergerd-Lock looked at Jawn and raised an eyebrow. "Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other, you know? I already know you don't put the toilet seat down. That really shits me, but I'll live."

Jawn looked over at Mike, ready to punch the strangers in the face. "You two already bitched about me?"

Beaming as if it was fuckin' Christmas, Mike shook his head, his entire body moving as one. "Nope. We walked together here after coffee. Don't you remember? This is a hospital… we could run some tests if memory is failing you."

"Then who said anything about flatmates?" Jawn asked, ignoring what Mike said. He was getting good at that, ignoring this "Mike" person.

"Me, bitch!" Ermergerd-Lock exclaimed. "Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistand. Wasn't that difficult a leap. You dig?"

"How did you know about Afghanistan?" Jawn asked, beginning to feel violated.

Ermergerd-Lock grabbed his scarf and slipped it over his neck. It was a crude portrayal of a noose, a little morbid humour that Jawn would have enjoyed had he not been in the situation he was currently in. "Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it." He stalked towards the door and smiled. "We'll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o'clock. Sorry – gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary."

"Is that it?" Jawn asked, frowning at the strange man.

Ermergerd-Lock slammed the door shut and towered over Jawn. "Is that what?"

"We've only just met and we're gonna go and look at a flat?" Jawn asked.

"Problem?"

Jawn looked over at Mike for some help but the little shit was just smiling at the interactions. What the fuck? Who just stands there and smiles while this sort of shit goes down? And why isn't he saying anything useful?

"Uh, yeah! We don't know a thing about each other; I don't know where we're meeting; I don't even know your name," Jawn replied, beginning to get pissed off.

Ermergerd-Lock smirked down at Jawn and shook his head, just his head. "I know you're an Army doctor and you've been sent home from Afghanistand, not Iraqu. I know you've got a brother who's worried about you but you won't go to him for help because you don't approve of him – possibly because he's an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife. And I know that your therapist thinks you limp because you're a lil bitch– quite correctly, I'm afraid." The veteran looked at his cane and felt tears welling in his eyes. Yeah, he was a lil bitch. "That's enough to be going on with, don't you think?" Ermegerd-Lock went back to the door and looked back at Jawn one last time. "The name's Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes and the address is two hundred and twenty one Bee Baker Street."

After a click-wink at Jawn, he glared at Mike.

"Bye, Ermergerd-Lock!" Mike called out as Ermegerd-Lock rolled his eyes and slammed the door behind him. "Yeah, he's always like that," Mike said.

Sure, Jawn didn't know Mike StandDown at all, but this little shit didn't say a word to help him out. Jawn had never been more confused in his life and he just heard a grown man call Iraq 'Iraqu'.

* * *

Jawn went to bed that night and lay down on it. This Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes was a suspicious person and Jawn wanted to know more about him. He took out his mobile and flicked to the last message.

_Experiment fucked up big time. Send help. LOL. EB_

Jawn looked at the message, startled that something so stupid was sent to someone. His eyes flickered to the laptop sitting on his desk. For the first time in its life, Jawn was going to use it for something good. He Googled 'Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes'.

* * *

Somewhere else in London, a woman in a pink coat and high-heels slowly reached down with a trembling hand to grab a clear glass bottle. This is possibly related to the other deaths, as they all had the same bottle. Inside, as per the previous three deaths, were three large capsules. Her fingers clasp around the bottle and she lifted it from the floor, her hand still shaking. That's pretty much it from her. The next time we mention her, she dead. Surprise surprise!


	5. Chapter 5

The next day, Jawn Wats-Off skipped down Baker Street, stopping in front of 221B. Using his stick, he whacked the door, hoping someone inside would answer it. As he finished whacking to his heart's content, a black cab skidded around the corner and the breaks screamed as it stopped with a start just in front of Jawn. Ermergerd-Lock stepped out and smiled at Jawn as if cabs running havoc in London all the time.

"Sup, bitchacho," Ermergerd-Lock said as he walked towards the window of the cab and handed some money to the cabbie. "Thanks, dawg. I'll call ya if I need anything." He was pretty much besties with all the cabbies. Except one.

Jawn recovered from the shock of the bizarre entrance. "Mr Better-Holmes. How you doin'?"

The new bro laughed a very fake laugh before stopping suddenly. "Call me Ermergerd-Lock, pls."

He held out his hands for Jawn to take. Jawn looked down and did as Emergerd-Lock desired, in a non-sexual sounding way.

"This flat's gotta be expensive as shit. It's a boss-ass spot," Jawn said, beginning to sweat. He didn't want to have to give an awkward "no" when hearing the price…

Ermergerd-Lock smiled. "Oh, Mrs Houdini is the landlady and giving me a very spesh deal. She owes me a favour for a case a few years back. Her husband got sentence to death in Florida and I helped her out," he smirked at Jawn and knocked on the door again. Where on earth was she?

But Jawn was gobsmacked. "You stopped her husband being executed?"

Again, Ermergerd-Lock guffawed and shook his head. "Nope, I ensured it. Like a _boss_!" He smiled at Jawn again, giving him a wink.

The door slammed open and revealed a rather drugged up looking woman. "What do ya want?" she barked out.

"Mrs Houdini, it's Ermergerd-Lock," the man said, smiling at the junkie.

"Ermergerd-Lock, hullo." She opened her arms for a hug and Ermergerd-Lock stepped into her embrace, patting her back a few times before pulling away.

He suddenly motioned to Jawn after forgetting the kid was there. "This is Doctor Jawn Wats-Off."

Mrs Houdini looked over at Jawn with alarm, revealing her blood-shot eyes. "I swear it's prescription," she told him.

The doctor frowned at her and shook his head. "Er, it's not really my business…"

"Good boy. Come in," she said, beaming at him, revealing her decaying teeth.

Jawn looked over at Ermergerd-Lock who smiled lovingly at the landlady. "How are you so fabulous? Alright, let's do this."

The boys walked up the steps to the first floor. Jawn did lunges up the stairs. Once he got to the top, he began to feel the burn and started to rub his legs as though he were in pain. Ermergerd-Lock opened the door and waltzed in. Jawn made his way in too, still doing his lunges.

Jawn winced as he saw the room. There were boxes scattered everywhere, lining one of the walls as well. "Well, I can certainly _try _to pretend this is liveable."

"Yes," Ermergerd-Lock said, not paying attention at all to Jawn. They were gonna live there no matter what. Ermergerd-Lock was thinking of ways to say 221B Baker Street without saying it like "two hundred and twenty one bee Baker Street". That's how his shit of a brother would talk and Ermergerd-Lock disassociated himself from his brother.

"I like it so much I brought my stuff straight here from my parent's place," Ermergerd-Lock told Jawn.

It was only after the words left his mouth, he realised Jawn had said "But we gotta get this shit out, first."

They looked at each other in slight shock and embarrassment. "Oh." One of them said. Or both. Ermergerd-Lock wasn't too sure.

There was a pause before Jawn spoke again. "So, this is all…"

"Well," Ermergerd-Lock started, "obviously I can, ya know, make it look presentable… I guess."

Jawn could feel the awkwardness. It was almost as if Jawn had a cat and the cat peed on everything in the vicinity. Like, what do you say when your cat fucks up big time? "Oops. Sorry. I'll lecture my cat, probs won't happen again." This was a bad example.

So, Ermergerd-Lock made a half-assed attempt at making the flat look fab. He threw some shit in a box. He then grabbed a stack of letters and placed them on the mantel piece before grabbing a fucking tomahawk and stabbing it through the letters, keeping them in place. But not really. Ermergerd-Lock's a bit of an idiot. The letters spilt in half, an awkward half of an M/W falling to the ground.

But Jawn looked over at the mantelpiece and sighed. He lifts his stick and waved it around before nudging an object gently. "Is that a fucking skull?"

"Stole it from a blind man when he wasn't looking," Ermergerd-Lock said, creating more questions than he answered.

Mrs Houdini walked into the room and smiled again. She needed to see a dentist. "What do ya think, Wats-Off? There's another bedroom upstairs for, you know, when you two have children or somethin', idk."

The doctor looked over at her and frowned. Did she just say children and the letters I D K? "Of course we'll be needing two. I'm not sleeping in the same room as that," he replied, brandishing his stick at Ermergerd-Lock.

She laughed and shook her head. "No, ya don't dig! Whatever you two are, it's all G. Mrs Turner next door has a married duo." She winked at him before walking into the kitchen. "Oh, Ermegerd-Lock, you little shit! You've fucked up my kitchen!"

As she said this, Jawn was watching Ermergerd-Lock. Why wasn't he stopping Mrs Houdini from making insinuations about their relationship? Did Jawn accidently get into a relationship with this man? Surely not!

No-one made any comments, so Jawn decided to pinch one of the armchairs. He hit the cushion with his stick and fell into the comfort. He looked at Ermegerd-Lock who still tried to make the flat alright.

"Google'd you last night," Jawn said, twirling the stick about.

Ermergerd-Lock turned to him and cocked an eyebrow. "Anything interesting?"

"Shit load of things came up and I found your website. The Sky-ence of Deductions, Seductions, and Insults," Jawn said, trying to remember what the URL was.

"And," Ermergerd-Lock started with a small smile, "opinions?" Jawn gave him a look, the look of 'are-you-fucking-kidding-me-it's-shit'. Ermergerd-Lock's smile dropped as he tried to comprehend what his new flat-share had just facial expression-ed. "Yeah. Seductions really didn't work with the theme of my blog..."

"You say you can identify a software designer by his tie and an airline pilot by his left thumb?"

"Fuck yeah, I can! Bro, I read your military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits in your phone. Tell me I'm lying, bitch!" Jesse Pinkman… I mean, Ermergerd-Lock said.

Jawn's frown became more pronounced as he heard his answer. "Exqueeze me, how?"

Ermergerd-Lock tapped his nose and winked while Mrs Houdini walked into the lounge room with a newspaper.

"There've been three suicides, Ermergerd-Lock. Thought they'd be right up your alley, what with your insult radar and all."

The man rolled his eyes while walking to the window. He flicked the curtain away and peered out. "Oh, no way!" He continued to watch as someone left a flashing police car and walked towards the front door of their flat. "Police are here. There's a fourth and something's new."

Mrs Houdini looked Ermergerd-Lock with wide eyes. "Bloody shit! Are you kidding me?! I'm taking refuge in your room," she gasped, rushing out of the room.

Ignoring his landlady, Ermergerd-Lock looked at the door as Gavin Lestrade came trotting up the stairs. Jawn was a little confused. How did he get in? Mrs Houdini should've locked the door. Rookie error, especially for a junkie.

"Where?" Ermergerd-Lock asked.

"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."

"And? What's the shiz? You turn up now after months. Something's off." Ermergerd-Lock narrowed his eyes.

"This chick left a note."

Everyone froze as Ermegerd-Lock comprehended. "Who's on forensics?"

"Anderson."

Ermergerd-Lock let out on excessive groan that went on for about twenty seconds. "Anderson won't work with me! FUCK MY LIFE!"

"He's not your assistant so suck it up, sunshine," Lestrade grumbled.

"Uh, bitch p-uh-lease!" Ermergerd-Lock said, sticking his hand out. "I need an assistant. Ya dig?"

"Are you fucking coming or not?"

Ermergerd-Lock grumbled and sighed. "Not in the coppa car. I'll be behind."

The detective sighed and smiled. "Well thank fuck! See you then."

Mrs Houdini walked into the room as Lestrade walked out. Ermergerd-Lock beamed at her and bit his lip. The front door closed and Mr Better-Homes Mario jumped in the air. "Fuck yeah! Four serial suicides and a note! Christmas's come early!" He grabbed his coat and scarf, pulling them on as he headed into the kitchen. "I'mma be late, Mrs Houdini, I'll need some food."

"I'm not your housekeeper, dickhead!" she called back.

The bro spun around the room before calling back out. "Anything. I'll eat crackers, Mrs Houdini! Jawn, settle in. Ermergerd-Lock out, bitches!"

There was silence before Mrs Houdini started to speak. "He's always on the feet. _My_ husband, bloody hell, never not on the go. But you're more the sitting down type of person. I reckon you two balance each other out perf'ly! I'll get you some tea. Ermergerd-Lock was saying you got shot in your leg so you rest it."

"Fuck off about my leg!" Jawn yelled before flushing, trying to control his thoughts. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Just this is annoying. Didn't even get to keep the hole in my leg," he grumbled.

"It's alright. I got a hip. I can lend you some of the drugs, if you want. Prescription, of course," she reiterated, stirring mild suspicion in Jawn.

"I'll settle with a cup of tea. That'd be lovely."

"Just this once," Mrs Houdini warned. "I'm not your housekeeper. I'm your fucking landlady, got it?"

"Couple of biscuits would be great, too," Jawn added.

Mrs H turned around and looked at him. "Not your fucking housekeeper, mate."

Despite her irritated tone, Jawn grabbed the paper and ignored her. There was a large article about Beth Gimme-Port's suicide. Beside her picture was a smaller one of that bro who came in and terrorised Ermergerd-Lock.

"You're a doctor," a deep voice said from the doorway. "Even better, you're a fuckin' Army doctor. That's hectic."

"Yeah. 'Spose."

"Good?" Jawn stood up and approached the bro.

"Bitch, I was in Afghanistan. I'm the bee's knees, or so my grandma would often tell me."

"Seen a lot of injuries, then; violent deaths."

"No shit."

"Bit of trouble too, I bet."

Jawn's tone got lower. "Of course, yes. Enough for a lifetime. Far too much."

"Wanna see some more?"

Without thought, Jawn replied with "oh God, yes."

Ermergerd-Lock spun around and jumped down the stairs. He was glad Mrs Houdini hadn't heard Jawn's reply. She'd think something dirty was going down. Just murder, thankfully.

Jawn followed quickly. "Cancel tea, Mrs H. Wats-Off out, bitches!" he called out while approaching the door.

"That's my thing," Ermergerd-Lock warned.

"Both of you?" Mrs Houdini asked, standing beside the stairs, a kettle in hand.

Ermergerd-Lock spun around and smile. "Impossible suicides? Four of them? There's no point sitting at home when there's finally something fun going on! Imagine the amount of insults!" He squealed like a pig (or Lestrade when free hand-sanitiser was distributed) before playfully punched her shoulder and Mrs H had a small smile slide over her face.

"It's shit idea to look happy, keep your smile to yourself," she tried to scowl.

"Who cares about shit ideas? The game, Mrs Houdini, is on!" He started to mutter his own theme song, grabbing Jawn's hand and pulling him to the street. Mr Better-Homes hailed the approaching cab and pulled his new flat-share inside it.


	6. Chapter 6

The sky had become dark and Ermergerd-Lock looked over at Jawn. They still sat in the cab, BTW.

"Okay, you've got questions," he started.

"Yeah, where the frick frack paddy wack are we going?"

"Crime scene. Next?"

"Who are you? What do you do?"

"Well, you know who I am. What do you _think _I do?"

Jawn hesitated before answering. "I'd say private detective but the police don't associate with private detectives…"

"I'm an insulting detective," Ermergerd-Lock informed Jawn. "Only one in the world. I invented the job. Like a bawse!"

"What does that mean?"

"It means boss. I just said it like-"

"No, insulting detective. What the hell?"

"It means when the police have no clue what they're doing, which is always, they prosult me. They normally say 'lil bitch, help' and I can tell them everything about the murders, every insult they had ever received," Ermergerd-Lock said with a smirk.

Jawn frowned but decided against calling out his use of 'prosult'. Jawn assumed it was because 'pro' means good and 'con' means bad. Still stupid. They clearly consult him. "The police don't associate with amateurs."

At his words, Ermergerd-Lock turned around to look at the other man. "When I met you for the first time yesterday, I asked, "Afghanistand or Iraqu?" and you looked surprised."

"Yes, mainly because you call Iraq "Iraqu". But, how did you know?" Jawn asked and Errmergerd-Lock gave him a pointed look.

"I didn't know, I _saw_. Your haircut, the way you hold yourself says military. Pretty standard cut. But your conversation as you entered the room. "Bit different from my day"," he imitated with a ridiculous voice. "That told me that you had trained at Bart's. Add them together and what do ya got? Bippity boppity boop, you're an Army doctor. As for you face, it's orange, an obvious fake tan. Why would you get a fake tan? You were insulted over your lack of tan. Why a lack of tan? Outside a lot but always slip slop slapped. You're an Army doctor, you don't have to worry about looking good or not, no-one'll care. So, you were teased. You've been abroad, but not sunbathing. You carry around a stick. You don't need it for walking. Your therapist thinks you've got a psychosomatic limp. You don't need it at all, you do it to please her because she called you a 'lil bitch' and said you had to suck it up. Therefore, she thinks you were somewhere traumatic. Where would an Army doctor who's been abroad have a traumatic enough time to have a stick? War zone or some shit. To add to that, Mike only associates with those he thinks have cool scars. Psychosomatic limp, a stick, wounded. Army doctor, therefore wound is in action. Afghanistand or Iraqu."

"You said I had a therapist."

Ermergerd-Lock rolled his eyes at his friend. "You wouldn't just _get _a stick! Who does that? Oh, and then there's your brother."

With a groan, Jawn replied. "Hmm?"

The insulting detective held out his hand. "Your mobile is expensive as all bloody hell. I'm jelly. You've got e-mails, MP9 player, etc. But, you broke, bitch! Why you got a good phone? It's a gift, then." Jawn handed over his phone and Ermergerd-Lock looked over it again. "This shit is scratched. Like, a whole lot of scratched, but small. It's gotta be in the same pocket as keys and coins but you broke and have no coins, peasant. You broke, you'd have more respect, so an old howner. We know who, too!"

Jawn ignored the fact the detective had put a clear 'H' before owner. It was odd. "The engraving," he said, instead.

_Harry Wats-off_

_From Clara_

_ILY XXX_

"Unless you lead a double life, which I highly doubt, or you prefer the using your middle name, which is total false, you've got a family member who's given you his old phone. Not your father, old peeps don't have cool stuff! Could be a cousin, but nope. You came back from war, a cousin is more than happy to help out. You've got no extended family that you're close to. Brother? DING DING DING DING!" Ermergerd-Lock was smiling as he examined the phone. "Now, Clara. Who's Clara? Three kisses: romantic attachment. People don't spend monies on a boyfriend/girlfriend unless it's _very _serious so, wife. It's only recent, though. New model. But who gives away a new phone? Someone who's having trouble with the wife. He left her. If it was the other way 'round, he'd wanna keep it for his shrine of her. But you're broke, bitch! Y U no with brother? Liked his wife or hate his drinking. One of the two. Or both. Whatever floats your boat."

"How can you possibly know about the drinking? Clara only found out three months ago and they were married," Jawn said.

Ermergerd-Lock was beaming now. "A guess, not that I ever guess, of course. I don't guess. The power connections. Unless it was a USB, the hardest shit on earth to get in, there is only one other excuse for scuff marks around the power connection. Every night, he plugs it in to charge but his hands are shaking. Never see that shit on a sober bro's phone, never not on a drunks." He handed back the phone before ruffling Jawn's hair. "You were right. Congrats."

"Sorry, right on what, exactly?" Jawn asked, pocketing his phone.

"The police don't consult amateurs," he replied with a smirk before turning to look out the window. He was pretty sure that Jawn was going to flip his shit.

Jawn paused for a second before responding. "That… was bloody fantastic!"

The detective frowned and looked over at Jawn for a few seconds. "Fo realz?"

"Totes," Jawn responded. "That was extraordinary. Frackin' extrodinary!"

"That is not the usual reaction."

Jawn frowned at Ermergerd-Lock. "What's the norm?"

"Piss off, freak."

The duo laughed a very pretentious laugh before stopping abruptly and staring out the window beside them.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_hey guys!_

_So, this is the last chapter for today. I'd apologies for the spam, but I'm not even sorry. I'm going to go to bed now because it's 12:30._

_Before I do go, I just wanna stress that I'd love love love love **love **some reviews because I've been working on this for a bit and I'd love some recognition/some encouragement :) But, I totally understand that reviewing isn't really a thing people are into (I'm often a silent reader, increasingly so since I read on my iPod), so things like subscribing, favourite-ing, you know, the usual things you can do for a writer/story. All those are great and I love them so much!_

_However, based on the current statistics for each chapter, there probably aren't even people reading this far into the story (i.e. dropping off after the first chapter because this isn't what you expected etc.), I'm totally aware that I probably won't recieve any e-mails from when I wake up, unless they're my own subscriptions._

_Actually, you know what? Just reading and getting some numbers up for me is fantastic and it really makes doing this... parody thing more fun and fantastic._

_Nonetheless, let me know your favourite lines, your least favourite lines, lines you'd change, favourite new character (I actually love that Minivan, to be honest) and so on! I can promise that our dear friend Angelo will be even more fabulous._

_Gah! I'm sorry, I'm rambling. The moral of the story is: I'd love to get an e-mail telling me someone reviewed, subscribed, favourited, whatnot, when I wake up and I shall repay dearly with a few more chapters ;)_

_Right._

_Enjoy._

_X_

* * *

They arrived at Lauriston Gardens and Ermergerd-Lock and Jawn began to walk towards the scene of the crime. There were police everywhere. They were all looking as though they had no clue what was going on and a shit load of police tape covered the area. Jawn swore he saw a police officer wrapped in it, stumbling around. He looked like a blue and white mummy…

"Did I fuck up?"

Jawn shrugged. "Harry and me don't get on, never have. Clara-"

"Harry and _I_," Ermergerd-Lock corrected.

The doctor narrowed his eyes and shook his head. "Sure. Clara and Harry broke up 'bout three months ago and are going through the divorce. I suggested an annulment but Harry assures me they do not even make the criteria. Harry had the appropriate paperwork. And Harry is indeed a drinker."

"Aww yeah! 10/10! Champion!" Ermegerd-Lock exclaimed, Mario jumping again.

"And Harry is short for Harriet," Jawn said before continuing the walk towards the crime scene.

"Harry's you're sister?"

"At birth. Xe is gender-fluid so it's Harry some days, Harriet others. Anyway, what's the point of me being here?" Jawn asked. Don't worry about Harry. Xe chose a neutral pronoun to avoid any confusion. Besides, we won't hear much of xer until, like, season 3. IDK.

Ermergerd-Lock was frustrated. "Sister!"

"Ermergerd-Lock, pls. What the fuck am I supposed to do here?" Jawn spat out.

"There's always something, Jawn," Ermergerd-Lock said. "Anyway, I had no signs to point to her gender.

"Freak! What the fuck are you doin' here?" Minivan asked as they approached. Ermergerd-Lock and Minivan did one of 'em "manly" hugs were they thump each other's backs.

"Brother, yo. Papa Bear wants me here," he said, taking a step back from Minivan.

She frowned and crossed her arms. "Fuck off. Why are you really here?"

"I think he wants me to take a look? IDK."

"Well," she started, "you know what I think, don't you?"

Ermergerd-Lock grabbed a handful of tape and lifted it as high as possible to get in. "Always," he replied, tears welling in his eyes. He blinked them away and took a deep, creepy breath in though his nose. "Sorry to hear you didn't make it home last night."

"You wot, mate?" Minivan started before looking at Jawn who was sliding under the tape. He was feeling such like Milford StandDown now, or whatever his name was: silently watching awkward conversations.

"I- who the fuck are you?" she asked as she looked at Jawn.

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "This is ma bro, Doctor Jawn Wats-Off. We're besties." Ermergerd-Lock turned to Jawn. "Bitch, that's Sally Minivan. She's somehow a Sergeant and an old friend. She and I are as close as my thighs," he told the doctor before motioning down. "As you see, I have a huge ass thigh gap. I only got it so I could make said joke with Minivan. Speaking of which, yes, Jawn and I are colleagues now."

"A colleague? How do you get a colleague?! Did you follow the doctor home? Wouldn't be the fuckin' first time! What did Papa Bear and I say about that?"

"Erm…" Jawn said, looking about awkwardly. "Should I just wait-"

"NUP!" Ermergerd-Lock screamed, not looking at Jawn at all.

Minivan sighed and grabbed her walkie-talkie. She brought it to her mouth and pressed a few buttons before getting the right one. "Got him. He'll be in in a few," she said before walking towards the house, the boys in tow.

Doctor Jawn looked about with his mouth open like a child. He looked at the trees, at the pavement, as Ermergerd-Lock's arse, but not the last one.

"Ah, Anderson," Ermergerd-Lock said. "Here we are again."

"This is a crime scene," the pretentious douche said, waving his pretentious hand about. "I don't want it contaminated, you dig?"

"I dig." Ermergerd-Lock took another unnecessarily deep breath through his nose. "You're wife at her mum's for long?"

Anderson began to whine. "Wha-t? Who told you? We were trying to keep it under wraps." He stamped his foot and pouted.

"Your hideous deodorant told me," Ermergerd-Lock replied with a grimace. "It's so gross."

"M-my deodorant?" Was Ermergerd-Lock finally noticing Anderson?

Ermergerd-Lock smirked at him. "It's for men."

Everyone froze, staring at the detective. "No shit. That's why I wear it."

"Sergeant Minivan's wearing the same thing." Anderson gave him a shocked, pretentious look and looked over at Minivan. Their hearts stopped and Ermergerd-Lock took another deep breath. "I think it just vaporised," he snickered.

"I don't know what you're trying to imply-"

"Because he's an idiot," Ermergerd-Lock whispered to Jawn.

"-But I don't like it," Anderson told him, waving a pretentious hand around.

"I'm not implying anything," Ermergerd-Lock said as he started to walk into the building of the crime scene. "I'm sure Minivan just came around for a happy little chatty chat." He spun around and looked at Jawn, Anderson and Minivan. "She just… happened to stay over, I guess. Oh, and so kind! She scrubbed your floors, judging by her knees. That's fab, you're wife'll be happy when she returns!" He motioned for Jawn to follow before turning around and walking back into the building.

Jawn looked down at Minivan's knees before looking up at her. "Fuck off. If you're gonna try'n shame me, you better fucking shame him," she growled out before snarling at Jawn. "Keep walking, kid."

He blushed and ran after Ermergerd-Lock. He was standing by Gavin Lestrade who was putting on his coverall. Ermergerd-Lock looked over at Jawn and pointed to the coveralls.

"You have to put this one or Papa Bear here will shower you in hand sanitiser."

Papa Bear (aka Gavin Lestrade), looked over at the doctor and frowned. "Who. Are. You?" he asked.

"He's ma brother," Ermergerd-Lock said with a smile. He took off his own gloves and grabbed the latex gloves on offer.

"I don't give a shit, who is he?"

Ermergerd-Lock glared at Lestrade. "I said, he's my brother. He with me, bitch!"

After years of taking orders, both in a restaurant and in the army, Jawn complied with Ermergerd-Lock's request. He was putting the coveralls on when he looked at Ermegerd-Lock, wearing his normal getup and latex gloves.

He frowned at the detective and pointed at the coveralls. "You'd look fab in a coverall." After seeing Ermergerd-Lock's face, Jawn shook his head. "Silly me, I'm an idiot."

The detective looked over at Lestrade. "Where we at, Greg?"

Ignoring the fact that Ermergerd-Lock hadn't learnt his name yet, Gavin grabbed another pair of latex gloves and slipped them on his hands, creating a third layer of latex. He didn't want to touch a dead person. Ew. Dead people carry diseases like the plague!

"Follow me."


	8. Chapter 8

Gavin strutted up the circular stairs, the Baker Street Boys following behind him. Both he and Jawn wore the coveralls and cotton shoes because they think they cute! Lestrade was wearing several layers of all. On the other hand, Mr Better-Homes was just wearing one layer of latex gloves as protection from the dead.

As they climbed, Lestrade began to speak. "I'll give you two minutes to check her out."

Ermergerd-Lock shook his head. "I may need more time. I guess we'll see."

"Her name's Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards," he told the boys. "We're running them now for contact details. Some kids found her."

"I hope you charged them for trespassing," Ermergerd-Lock said.

After a small laugh, Gavin said "of course we did!"

They walked into the room two stories up from the ground and Jawn looked around from the doorway. The walls had large holes in them, no clue why or how. The room itself was bear… bare. The floors looked rotting and he didn't want to walk in very much. Instead, he took a few steps in behind Ermergerd-Lock and looked at the body with pity; he always felt pity for the dead, despite what Dumbledore said.

Ermergerd-Lock looked at the body with his head cocked. Suddenly he turned around and looked at Gavin.

"Shut up, Papa Bear!"

"I didn't say anything?" he said, his voice rising at the end. Did Ermergerd-Lock call him Papa Bear? What the hell?!

"You're thinking is both annoying and irrelevant." Sighing, Ermergerd-Lock looked back at the body, missing the surprised look Jawn and Gavin exchanged.

The woman was lying on her tummy and her hands were on either side of her head. She probably flattened down the back of her skirt because no way she died so graceful like. Her nails on her left hand were hideous but her right nails were fab! On the ground by the woman's left hand was _Rache. _Ergo, her left nails were used to scratch the word and gross-ified in the process. But Ermergerd-Lock didn't think she had finished scratching the word when she died. If only she had a Sharpie on her at the time…

Ermergerd-Lock started to make a mental list:

_Left handed._

He started to consider the word on the ground. Rache. It's a German word for revenge. Lolz.

But, nah. He already knew she was gonna write more. He thought about the other 27 letters and nodded. 'L' was the only letter that would work.

Rachel.

Who da fuq?

He inspected her, noting that her coat was wet, under the flappy collar thing was wet and yet, her umbrella was dry. She was obvs in heavy rain.

Jawn watched as Ermergerd-Lock began to inspect the jewellery. _'Maybe he's really into bracelets and earing and rings… or maybe he's gonna buy something for his girlfriend. Make note to ask him_,' Jawn thought.

Everything was clean except…

_Dirty_: Ermergerd-Lock froze at the wedding and engagement ring. He began to make _anal_isations to add to the list.

_Married… unhappily married… unhappily married for Ten or more years._

_Left handed_

He took off the wedding ring and looked at it. On the outside it was dirty, yet the inside was clean. Ah… it was regularly removed. He smirked down at her as he stood up.

His list was beginning to look pretty darn snazzy

_Serial adulterererer_

_Unhappily married for ten or more years._

_Left handed_

Papa Bear sighed. "Anything?" he asked, thinking he may have to crouch down and try and examine the body himself. Gross.

"Er, I dunno. One or two things…" Ermergerd-Lock said, because he's a lil bitch. Like, yes, you've got a substantial amount. You know about her life stye. Bitch, don't say 'not much' because that's a lie.

He took off his latex gloves, much to Gavin's horror, and grabbed his phone.

"I took a German course once and I'm pretty fluent. Rache means German. Ergo, she is German. I think it's a clue. I've sent someone out to Germany now to get some information. Germany, as I know being the fluent speaker I am, is rather small so everyone knows everyone and we'll find out everything in a matter of-"

"Great, thanks, dickhead," Ermergerd-Lock cut off Anderson, slamming the door in his face. "For the record, he Googled it seconds before walking into the room. He's never taken a single German course in his life. If you ask him how to say 'cheese sandwich' he'll say something like 'Rathaus' which is 'town hall'. Papa Bear, make Baby Bear do his job. Although, Rache _is_ revenge."

After his little rant, he checked out _UK Weather _app on his phone. And clicked the _Maps _option.

"So she's German?" Papa Bear… I mean, Lestrade, asked.

With a false laugh, Ermergerd-Lock flicked through his phone. "Nope! She's out of town for one night before going back to… Cardiff." He pushed his phone in his pocket and smiled. "All oblivious, as of yet."

"Wait, did you say'oblivious'?" Jawn asked, looking at Lestrade and back at the detective. This kid didn't even speak English properly, how was he expected to solve a crime?

"What about the message, though?" Gavin asked, beginning to hyperventilate. "What does it all _mean_?!"

"Yo, Wats-Off, shine bright!" Ermergerd-Lock exclaimed.

"What, the message?"

Ermergerd-Lock groaned and rolled his eyes. "The body, dickwit!"

"Oh, right." Jawn crouched by the ladies face and had a quick squiz."

"Uh, no! I've got a whole team outside!" Lestrade tried. Jawn ignored him and the detective rolled his eyes again.

"They won't work with me."

Lestrade bean to tear up. "I'm breaking all the rules to have you here right now!"

"Yes, but I need to be here because I rock." Mr Better-Homes flashed Gavin a smile.

"Well, yes, yes you do rock," Gavin mumbled before walking out. He looked at someone and frowned. "Anderson, keep everyone out for a few minutes."

The door slammed shut and Jawn winced. If the floor broke, he was going to push Ermergerd-Lock off a building.

"What am I doing here?" Jawn asked in a whisper.

"Being help."

"I'm meant to pay rent."

"But this is more fun than paying rent. God, get your priorities right!"

Jawn spluttered. "Fun? A dead woman in a hideous pink is fun?"

The detective cocked his head. "Alright. Dead is a good start. Work on that."

As Jawn went to verbally abuse the detective, Lestrade walked in.

"Ass-fix-iation. Passed out and chocked on her own vom-vom. But no alcohol. Maybe a seizure or drugs. Either way, if she were alive, charge her with trespassing and a trip in the police car. If you get arrested and police car-d away, do you pay for petrol or is it free?"

"You know what it was, you read the papers. As for the monies for a police car…" both Ermergerd-Lock and Jawn looked up at Gavin.

"You've had your two minutes, spill the metaphorical beans," he said, ignoring their question. Now I'm curious…

Jawn's eyes widened. "Is she a suicide?" he turned to look at Ermergerd-Lock.

"Totes."

After an overdramatic gasp from Jawn, Ermergerd-Lock told Lestrade everything about this woman.

"The vic's in her late thirties, is professional and in the media. She's come from Cardiff for one night. Her suitcase said so."

"Suitcase?" Lestrade asked with a frown.

"No shit. She's been married for at least ten years but he's an arse. She's had a string of lovers who had no clue she was married. Her husband called her a whore so she decided if she was gonna be called something, she was gonna do it. Here we are."

Lestrade groaned. "For fuck's sake, tell the truth!"

"Her wedding ring's at least 10 years old. It's the only bit of jewellery to not be cleaned regularly which says such about the state of her marriage. The inside is cleaner because she's removing it and the friction is polishing it. She's got horrid hands so she wouldn't take off her ring for work. One cannot simply sustain one lover for years so it's probs a string of 'em."

"Cardiff?"

Ermergerd-Lock rolled his eyes at Papa Bear. "Yeah, of course!"

"I-I don't understand…" Jawn trailed off, looking at Lestrade who shared the same confused face. Lestrade, however, was also a little scared and nervy about Ermergerd-Lock not wearing any protective gear.

The detective paused and looked at the two bros by him. "Fuck me, what's it like being idiots? It must suck balls." He turned back to the body with a sigh and began to talk again. "Her coat is slightly damp. She's been here for a bit so we know there was heavy rain in the last few hour. Her underneath-coat collar is damp too, so she turned it up against the wind. Her umbrella, however, wasn't used. It must've been strong wind and rain. But her umbrella wouldn't've stood a chance. I did some research; it wasn't raining anytime in London that heavily. Therefore, it must've been elsewhere. Where elsewhere? Cardiff. Woo! And she was intending to stay one night based on the size of the suitcase."

"Shit bro, that's hella cool!" Jawn exclaimed.

"Can you, like, not so loudly?" Ermergerd-Lock asked in a low tone.

Jawn flushed and looked at his feeties. "Sorry, I'll shut the frack up."

"No, just… quieter."

"Suitcase?" Lestrade asked again. "Why are you going on about a suitcase?"

"Suitcase! Need it. Must have a phone or organiser in it. We've gotta find out who Rachel is."

"S-she was writing 'Rachel'?" Lestrade asked. Well, fuck! This day was getting more and more confusing!

"No shit! She's not German, why'd she leave an angry note in a language she'd never use and would be a puzzle for us? Of course it's Rachel! Fuck! How'd you get this job? Forgetting that, why did she wait until she was dying to write it? Maybe someone was there and she didn't want them to know…"

"Stop. What's the deal with the suitcase?"

"Tiny splash marks on the heel and calf on the back of her leg that isn't present on the left," Ermergerd-Lock said. Jawn looked down and frowned. It kinda looked like it was the other side, on her left leg and not on the right. If she's left handed, she'd have dragged with her left hand, hence splashes on her left leg. But, whatevz. As long as the case is solved… "She was dragging a suitcase with wheels with her right hand and that's the only way she'd get spashy marks. Given the size of the case and the fact she's so conscious about her everything that it all matches, she was staying one night. So show me the case!"

Lestrade frowned. "There was no case."

"Exqueeze me?" Ermergerd-Lock said.

"That's my thing," Jawn muttered.

"There wasn't a case. There was never any suitcase." Lestrade crossed his arms and sighed. "Idiot."

Ermergerd-Lock squealed again and ran out the door, yelling to everyone in the house while running down the stairs. "I'm looking for a suitcase! Was there a suitcase? Did anyone see a suitcase?" No-one replied and his yells got more frantic. "Suitcase?!"

Lestrade watched as Ermergerd-Lock sped down the stairs. Both he and Jawn waited on the landing outside the room with the dead chick. "Ermergerd-Lock, there was no case!"

"But they take the poison themselves. You know that they chew and swallow the pills on their own," He began to walk down the stairs, needing to escape. "There are clear signs that all of you couldn't miss!"

"Thanks. And?"

"Murder!" Ermergerd-Lock squealed again. "I dunno how but these were not suicides. They are Sirius killings! Uh, _serial _killings! Woo! Serial killer! Love em! They always do something fun!"

"Why would you say that?" Lestrade asked, beginning to sob.

"Her suitcase! Where the diddely-darn is it? Did she eat it or wot? Someone else was here and they took her case, that's why she waited 'till she was dying to write _Rache_. He must've driven her here and forgotten she left shit in the car."

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there," Jawn said after a billion years of silence from his part. He was turning into Maleficent StandDown, or whatever the guy's name was.

"Don't be daft. She never _got _to the hotel. She colour co-ordinates everything from her lipstick to her shoes. She'd never leave the hotel looking like-" he froze and raised his hands. "Oh." His eye lit up like it was Christmas. "OH!" He slammed his hands together in delight, even though it looked a little mad, and squealed again.

"What?" both Lestrade and Jawn called out.

"Serial killers are idiots eventually and made mistakes. You gotta wait for a mistake," he muttered to himself. Obvs, he mutters loudly because frickin' everyone in the house heard him.

"We can't just _wait!" _Lestrade bellowed.

Ermergerd-Lock continued to run down the stairs. "He's already made a mistake. Look at her! Find out who she is, her family and friends. Get Rachel!"

Both Jawn and Lestrade couldn't see Ermergerd-Lock anymore as he started to run from the house.

"K, what mistake?" Lestrade called again.

The detective ran back and looked up the stairs at Lestrade. "PINK!"

He hurried off and the forensics team walked into the room. Anderson opened his pretentious mouth and called to his team "let's solve this."


	9. Chapter 9

Jawn had been forgotten. Everyone else was doing their thing and he was alone. "Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" he muttered before using his stick advantage and hobbling down the stairs to score some sympathy.

As he limped down, a police bro bumped into him and hurried past again. Jawn muttered something about no manners, but everyone ignored him and rushed past. He tried to follow Ermergerd-Lock and got down the stairs in his own time. When he reached the bottom, he was half-convinced to keep the coveralls and cotton shoes for a souvenir but decided against it.

When he walked outside in his normal getup, he looked around for Ermergerd-Lock but to no avail.

"He's gone," Minivan called from her post.

"Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes?"

"Yup. He normally takes off. Can't control that freak."

"Will he come back?"

"No need to. Besides, he practically flew over the tape and ran as fast as his legs would take him."

"Oh." Jawn looked at the ground and tried to come up with an idea. "Where am I?"

"Brixton," Minivan replied.

"Yeah, I dunno where that is… where can I get a cab?"

"Main road," she replied and lifted the tape.

"Thanks for the help," he said before limbo-ing under the police tape.

Minivan started to talk before Jawn could run. "You kids aren't friends. Ermergerd-Lock can't handle friends. He puts the chop in psychopath. So who the fuck are ya?"

"Erm… I'm…. uh, nobody?" Jawn looked around, hoping Minivan wouldn't recognise him as a mass murderer. No-one had and he hoped the cover of being an Army doctor would work out well for him. He'd fooled everyone so far but Minivan was a pretty sharp character.

"Right. Keep away from that kid. He gets a kick out of being involved in murders. He's a psychopath and one day, he's gonna kill someone and he'll get in trouble. Now, I'm not say that he's gonna kill a douche or someone who really sucks, but fo realz, he's messed up as heck."

"Wait, what?" Jawn frowned at her. She really had no idea who Jawn was, did she? _He _was the psychopath, not Ermergerd-Lock.

"He's a psychopath. Psychopaths kill and get bored easily," she told him.

Lestrade stalked out of the house and stood in front of Minivan. "He's a high functioning sociopath. Do your research. Now, come and check out the body. I know you've gotta update your Facebook profile pic. You'd look fab next to Jen."

"Right, let's go. See ya, Wats-Off," she called while laughing and following Gavin back to the crime scene.

Jawn watched for a second before turning around and running down the street, throwing his stick up in the air and catching it as he ran. About ten meters down the road from the crime scene, a telephone box beside him started to ring. Feeling a little self-conscious, adding to the fact he couldn't be bothered to answer the phone, he continued down the road, still throwing his stick in the air, but gradually slowing his pace. As soon as he walked past the phone box, it stopped ringing. Jawn was feeling a little scared but continued on his away nonetheless.

* * *

When he reached the main street, he began to feel tired. He just wanted to get a cab and go home. One flew past and Jawn tried to hail it to no avail. He flipped it off and began to hobble on his stick. He was getting exhausted. He passed a fast food restaurant and the payphone began to ring. He shook his head and continued to walk past.

* * *

Alex Worrington was a 20 year old boy, suffering from major depression. After failing university, his parents kicked him out of home and left him on the streets. His mother was in tears when her husband kicked him out. Oh, she had tried to beg, but it was pointless. Alex was a waste of space in the household. It was a miracle when he got a job at Chicken Cottage. He was starting to fix himself up. Once he got enough money, he was going to see his therapist.

He was inside when Jawn walked past the fast food restaurant. The phone began to ring and Alex felt his heart jump. Maybe his mother had found out where he worked and was calling him to invite him back home. He bit back a smile as he walked over to the phone. He reached out to get it, hope pulsing though his veins. He couldn't believe his luck! He was gonna go home! As his hand touched the receiver, it cut off.

_Of course, _Alex thought, _they don't want me. What's the point?_

* * *

Jawn continued to walk down the street until he approached another public phone. That, too, began to ring and he frowned.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" he grumbled. Someone wanted to get in contact with him and he may as well answer the phone. "Sup, slut?"

"There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?"

"Who the fuck is this?" Jawn asked the voice on the end of the phone.

"Do you see the camera, Doctor Wats-Off?"

Jawn looked through the window of the phone box and up at the CCTV camera on a wall. "Yeah? What of it?"

"Watch," the mysterious male voice said.

The camera swirled about before settling to look at the road. "Fuck me, that's good."

"There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?"

Again, Jawn looked across at the second camera that was fixed on him, and winked. "Hells yeah I do. Do your magic!"

This camera also swivelled about and settled to look at the road as well.

"And finally," the man's voice said, "at the top of the building on your right."

For the final time, the camera moved around and settled on the road.

"Teach me to be magic, too."

"Get into the car, Doctor Wats-Off," the voice said as a black car pulled up on the kerb by the phone box. The driver got out and opened the back passenger door. "I would make some sort of threat, but I'm sure your situation is quite clear to you."

The phone went dead and Jawn frowned. He didn't know what was going on but Jawn Wats-Off is a freeloader, as you probably remember from his conversation with Morris StandDown, and was more than happy to get into that car as long as it gave him a trip home. If he didn't have to pay anything, it was a good day for Jawn Wats-Off.


	10. Chapter 10

A few moments after getting in the car it began to drive. Jawn looked over at the person sitting in the car and smiled. There was an attractive woman sitting there, staring down at her iPhone. She didn't acknowledge him or anything; she just kept texting.

"Hello," Jawn said with a smile.

She looked up at him for a second and smiled brightly. "Hi!"

Her eyes returned to the phone and Jawn crossed his arms. "What's your name, gorgeous?"

"Er… Armadillo."

Jawn frowned at her. "Really?"

"Nope."

He looked down, trying to pretend he wasn't hurt by the fact she had called herself Armadillo. "Well, I'm Jawn. That is my real name, too, bee tea dubs."

"I know."

With a frown, Jawn looked at Armadillo. "Is it worth asking where I'm going?"

Armadillo smirked. "Not at all."

She gave him a smile before looking back at her iPhone. Jawn looked out the window, supressing the tears. He wasn't going home, was he?

* * *

A little while and an awkward silence later, the car pulled up outside an empty warehouse. Both Armadillo and Jawn exited the car and walked towards a man, leaning on an umbrella in the middle of the room. Armadillo turned around once Jawn got close to the man in the middle and walked back to the car.

Suddenly, there was a crash. "Oh, son of a-"

Jawn spun around to see Armidillo crouched down, her phone face down on the ground. Oh. And an iPhone, too! Well, that was broken and probably beyond use.

"Anthea, please," the man said with a sigh.

"Sorry sir. It slipped from my fingers, I swear!" she said, blushing.

He rolled his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "For Christ sake, Anthea, that is a spare. Anyway, I told you not to get an iPhone. Just get in the car and put the sim card into the other phone. Don't stress."

Jawn looked the man up and down. He was in a very expensive suit and had an umbrella in his hand. It hadn't been raining recently, not in London anyway. He knew that from when he was in Brixton. There was a chair in front of the man and Jawn frowned at it. The man used his umbrella to point at the chair.

"My apologies for that, Jawn. Nonetheless, have a seat."

Jawn continued to walk towards the man and frowned. "I do have a phone, you know. Like, well done, that was fantastic. But you could've phoned me… on my phone."

Instead of sitting down, Jawn kept walking and stood a meter away from the man.

"When one is avoiding the attention of Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes, one learns to be discreet, hence this place. The leg must be hurting you. Sit down."

"I don't wanna sit down," Jawn pouted.

The man gave Jawn a curious look. "You don't seem very afraid."

"Well," Jawn started, "I've been to Afghanistan, I'm pretty sure there isn't much that scares me now."

After a small chuckle, the man said "ah, yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don't you think?" There was a pause before he asked "what is your connection to Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes?"

Jawn frowned. That's why there were here? For Ermergerd-Lock? "I met him… yesterday. I don't know the man. We have no connection."

"Mmm, and since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?" the man taunted.

"Alright, who the frick frack paddy wack are you?" Jawn asked with a sigh.

"An interested party."

Jawn was very sus about this whole situation. "Interested in Ermergerd-Lock? Why the hell would you be interested in him? I'm pretty sure you kids aren't friends. Friends don't kidnap strangers to find out about someone."

"You've met him. How many 'friends' do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes is capable of having."

"Yeah? What do you suppose that is?"

"An enemy."

Who categorises enemies and friends together? This man, obvs. "An enemy?"

The man sighed. "In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he'd probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic."

**_HE _**likes to be dramatic?! Jawn looked around the warehouse. "Well, thank God you're above all that. I can see you're not a fan of dramatizing anything…" After a small frown from the man, Jawn's phone received a text. "See, that's how you contact someone."

Jawn grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked down at the message, ignoring the man standing before him.

_Baker Street. Come at once if convenient. SH_

"I hope I'm not distracting you."

"'Course not," Jawn replied rather casually. He decided to screw around with the bro and looked at his phone a few moments before putting it back in his pocket.

The man cocked his head while watching Jawn. "Do you plan to continue your association with Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes?"

"Bitch, I might be. I'm pretty sure that it's none of your business."

"It could be," he replied simply.

"Bullshit," Jawn said while looking over his shoulder.

The man grabbed a notebook from his pocket and opened it. He flicked through and began to speak. "If you do move into, um.. two hundred and twenty one B Baker Street, I'd be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way." He closed the notebook and pocketed it while looking at Jawn.

"Why? Why would you do that?"

"Because you're not a wealthy man."

"What do ya want?"

"Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you'd feel ... uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he's up to."

"What the hell? That's creepy. Why do you want to know?" Jawn spat.

"I worry about him. Constantly."

"How kind of you," Jawn said in a condescending manner.

"But I would prefer for various reasons that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a ... difficult relationship."

Jawn received another text, giving him a chance to not respond to the strange man's comment.

_If inconvenient, come anyway. SH_

"I'm not interested in your offer, bitch!" Jawn said, trying to channel his inner Jesse Pinkman. Rather terribly, to be honest.

"But I haven't mentioned a figure."

"IDGAF! I'm not interested in spying on someone. That's not my problem."

The man smiled. "You're very loyal, very quickly."

"Fuck off. I just don't wanna make a deal with the devil."

At Jawn's words, the man grabbed the notebook from his pocket. This was getting pretty tedious. He should've just remembered this stuff before bringing Jawn in. Like, congrats, you have memory issues.

"_Trust issues, _it says here."

Jawn began to sweat. "What are you reading? What the hell are you doing?"

"Could it be that you've decided to trust Ermegerd-Lock Better-Homes of all people?" the man asked Jawn with a smirk.

"I never said I trusted him. Did I say that? Who says I trust him?"

"You don't seem the kind to make friends easily."

"Got me! Now, are we done? I'm tired."

"You tell me," he said and smirked. Jawn looked at him before turning around and walking away. "I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that's not going to happen."

Jawn stop and his shoulders tensed. This man was making a mistake. He wouldn't like Jawn when he's angry. "My _what?_" Did this man know about his possessed hand (see conversation with Magnum StandDown… or whatever his name was)?

"Show me." The man nodded towards Jawn's left hand. Jawn was getting annoyed. This man was wasting precious sleep time. The man then leaned on his umbrella like commanding things was an ordinary thing for him.

_Bloody wanker_, Jawn thought. He wasn't intimidated, however. Nonetheless, he raised his forearm and stood still. He looked like he was going to start singing _'Single Ladies'_, a song he had practiced in the shower only last night before bed.

The man began to stroll forwards, the umbrella in the crook of his elbow. He reached to Jawn's hand. Jawn, still having trust issues, put his hand down. "Don't."

Instead of responding, the man lowered his head a bit, still maintaining eye contact, and raised an eyebrow. All Jawn could think was _trust issues. _It bounced around his head as the man took the left hand in both of his and began to look at it.

"Remarkable."

"What's remarkable?" Jawn pulled his hand away and placed it firmly by his side.

The man turned around and took a few steps back before responding. "Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Ermegerd-Lock Better-Homes, you see the battlefield. You've seen it already, haven't you?"

"Stop beating about the bush. What's wrong with my hand?" Jawn asked while the man opposite him spun around.

"You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks its post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you're haunted by memories of your military service."

Jawn Wats-Off was pissed off. Who the fuck did this man think he was to accuse Jawn of having PTSD? It was _clearly _PTID (Post-Traumatic Insult Disorder). He was livid. "Who the fuck are you and how do you know what my therapist has said?"

"Fire her. She's got it the wrong way round. You're under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You're not haunted by the war, Doctor Wats-Off ... you miss it." The man leaned in, staring into Jawn's eyes. In a whisper, he whispered "welcome back." Jawn's phone went off again and the man started to strut out, twirling about his umbrella. "Time to choose a side, Doctor Wats-Off."

He froze as he tried to comprehend what the man had said. He evoked more questions than he answered… actually, he didn't answer anything! He just fired off accusations and tried to make it rain!

Armadillo/Anthea began to walk back to Jawn, a BlackBerry now in her hand. "I'm taking you home."

Once Jawn started to follow, he took his phone out and checked out the most recent message.

_Could be dangerous. SH_

He put the phone away and hurried after the woman.

"Address?" she asked once he clambered into the car with her.

He looked up at her and frowned. "221B Baker Street. But I gotta stop off somewhere first."


	11. Chapter 11

Nek minute, Jawn walked into his bedroom at his original flat. He went to his desk and opened a locked draw. Under his laptop was a gun that he nicked. Jawn slipped it into the waistband of his jeans and walked out of the flat.

* * *

A few minutes later, the black car pulled up outside of 221B Baker Street. Armadillo/Anthea was still typing on her phone.

"Could you maybe not tell that bro that I came here?" Jawn asked with a frown on his face.

"Sure," the woman said, still typing.

Jawn sighed and rubbed his hands together, leaning forwards a bit. "You already told him, right?"

"Yeah."

Jawn nodded and opened the door. He suddenly turned around and looked back at her. "Do you ever get any free time?"

"Oh, yeah. Lots," Armadillo/Anthea replied with a snort. He continued to wait while she continued to type. She looked up at him and frowned. "Bye."

"K," Jawn muttered and got out of the car. He closed the door and walked to the front door of 221B.

* * *

Meanwhile, Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes was stretched out on the sofa with his feet pointed at the door. His sleeves were pushed up his arms and his eyes were closed. He had his left hand up, cocked at the elbow, and his right hand clenching his upper arm. He was clenching his left fist and, to be frank, this was hard to put into words because the writer still doesn't really understand what the frick frack paddy wack he was doing. Ermergerd-Lock's eyes snapped open end he made a gasping sort of noise. Jawn walked into the room and looked at him, asking the question on everyone's mind.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Thanks, Jawn.

"Nicotine patches helps me think. I've been banned from cigarettes so it's my only option."

He lifted his right hand to show Jawn the three patches on his arm. Apparently, he was pressing it against his skin to release the substance quicker. Lesbi-honest, the writer has never used them; this whole thing is confusing to her. Let's pretend she understand what's happening.

"Well, at least you're breathing good," Jawn replied.

Ermergerd-Lock guffawed. "Breathing sucks!"

Instead of replying to his insult of breathing, something that puzzled Jawn, he looked at Ermergerd-Lock's arm more closely. "Are you wearing _three _patches? What the hell?"

"It's a three-patch problem," he said simply, like that was a reasonable response.

He closed his eyes again and Jawn stood awkwardly, looking at the detective.

"So, what do ya want? You called me here and I thought it'd be important." Jawn fidgeted with his coat zipper.

Ermergerd-Lock was silent. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and smiled. "Right, yeah! Can I borrow your phone for a sec?"

The two boys were still. "M-my phone?"

"I don't wanna use me. Someone could recognise it 'cause I put it on my website."

Jawn furrowed his eyebrows as he stared at the man lying before him. "Mrs Houdini has a phone."

"Yeah, but she's downstairs and didn't hear me when I called out. Watch." The detective cleared his throat before beginning to shout. "MRS HOUDINI! MRS HOUDINI!" Jawn flinched from the sudden, random yells. "See? Can I borrow your phone?"

"I was on the other side of London, you prat!"

"No hurry, honest. If there was, I'd have bought another phone," Ermergerd-Lock smiled.

Jawn glared at the detective while pulling out his phone and holding it towards the detective. "Here you go, arse."

The detective held out his hand for Jawn. Instead of complying, Jawn threw his phone at Ermergerd-Lock's head. It hit his nose and fell onto his chest.

"Hey!" his eyes opened as he glared at the doctor.

"Be thankful it wasn't a Nokia," Jawn spat back while finding a chair.

"No, be thankful it didn't hit my cheekbone."

Jawn ignored the last comment, thinking it was rather stupid. "Is this for the case?"

"Mm-hmm. Her case."

"Her case?"

"No shit. Her suitcase. The murderer took her suitcase. Big mistake." After tsking the murderer,

"Alrighty-o. So, he took her case… and?"

"It's no use, there's no other way. We'll have to risk it," he muttered to himself before directing his attention to Jawn. "There's a number on my desk and I want you to send a text."

Jawn was so done with Ermergerd-Lock right now. "You brought me here to send a text?"

"Yes, a text, to the number on my desk," he said while holding the phone out.

"Wait," Jawn started while grabbing his phone from Ermergerd-Lock. "What was the point of me giving the phone to you if you were just going to hand it back literally seconds later?"

Ermergerd-Lock ignored him and folded his hands under his chin, closing his eyes again. While he did so, Jawn walked over to the window.

"What's wrong, lil bitch? Wondering why you suck?"

"I just met a friend of yours, actually," Jawn said, staring out the window in hope that the car had left.

"A friend?" Ermergerd-Lock asked while opening his eyes, alarm present in his eyes.

"An enemy, actually," Jawn replied while walking away from the window and to get the number from his desk.

"Oh, of course. Wait, which one?"

"Your arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?" he asked, turning to look at the detective who just narrowed his eyes at Jawn.

"Did he offer you money to spy on me?"

"Yes."

"Did you take it?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, getting a bit excited.

"No, of course not."

"Pity," Ermergerd-Lock sighed. "We could've split it. Think about me next time, bloody twit."

"Who is he?"

"The most dangerous man you've ever met, and not my problem right now," he muttered, almost to himself. "On my desk, the number. Hurry up, lil bitch!"

Jawn glared at Ermergerd-Lock and sighed. "Why won't anyone tell me who he is?" He grabbed the number and began to retreat to Eremrgerd-Lock. "Jennifer Wilson… isn't she the dead woman in Brixton?"

"Spot on. Now, enter the number." Jawn shook his head in disbelief but did so anyway. "Are you doing it?"

"Yes."

"Have you done it?"

"For fuck's sake, give me a minute!"

"Type this exactly: 'Sup slut, what happened at Lauriston Gardens? I blacked out, LOL! Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Be there or be square.'"

Jawn typed it in and sighed. "You blacked out?"

"What? No, nooooooo! Just type it and sent it ASAP." He walked into the out of the room and into the kitchen, walking over the coffee table to get there. He grabbed a pink suitcase from a chair and brought it back to the living room. He placed it the table between two armchairs in front of the fireplace. "Have you sent it yet?"

"What's the address?"

"Are you shitting me?! Twenty-two Northumberland Street! Jesus Christ!"

Jawn finished the message and looked over at Ermergerd-Lock who was unzipping the case and flipped the lid. Everything inside was pink except a book and a washbag. As soon as Jawn approached, he realised what it was.

"That's Jennifer Wilson's case! What the hell?!"

"Well done, Jawn! Good boy!" Ermergerd-Lock mocked. He rolled his eyes while Jawn stared, gobsmacked. "I didn't kill her, BTW."

"I didn't say you had."

"Given the text I had you send and the fact I have her case, it's a logical assumption."

"It sounds almost like you're trying to convince me you are the killer. Do people usually think you're the murderer?"

"On occasion," Ermergerd-Lock replied, almost boastfully.

He perched on the chair and Jawn walked over to look at the case. He sat down opposite Ermergerd-Lock and frowned. "Okay. So, how did you get this?"

"I looked."

"Er, where?"

"The killer drove her to Lauriston Garderns. He could only keep her case by accidently by driving her. No-one could be seen with this case without being sus. Statistically, it's more likely the killer was a man, and he'd be more likely to get rid of it. 'LOl, Pink! Do you keep your makeup in it?' so, he'd want to get rid of it. It'd take him about five minutes to realise his mistake so I checked every back street wide enough for a cab and anywhere you could deposit a bulky object without being observed within a five minute radius of LG. Took me less than an hour to get it right."

"And you figured it all out because the case was pink?"

"It had to be."

"Why didn't I think of that," Jawn muttered to himself.

"Because you're an idiot," the detective scoffed. Jawn looked offended and Ermergerd-Lock groaned. "No, don't be like that. Pretty much everyone is. Now, ignoring that, what's missing?"

"I dunno…" Jawn mumbled, not really wanting to look in. Like, sure, she's dead, but it's still private. Maybe someone else who wasn't him should be going through it, like her husband or Rachel. Jawn didn't know.

"Her phone, obvs. Like, there was no phone on her body and no phone in her case. We _do _know she had one. You just texted the number, B T Dubs." Ermergerd-Lock justified.

"She couldn't left it at home."

The detective sighed at the doctor. "She had a string of lovers, like she'd leave it at home. Too dangerous."

"Why did I just send that text?" he asked after Ermergerd-Lock got rid of the paper with the number on it.

"Because we need to find the phone," Ermergerd-Lock replied, rolling his eyes.

Jawn frowned. "She could've lost it, just fell out of her pocket."

"Maybe… or maybe…?"

"The murder? You think the bro who killer 'er still has it?"

"Look, I dunno how he got it, he may have taken it from her, it may've fallen out of her pocket, I dunno," Ermergerd-Lock started. "What I do know is this: the killer has the phone."

"Did I just text a murder?! Is he gonna come after me? Why did we do this? Why did you make me do this?!" Jawn began to hyperventilate.

The phone began to ring and Jawn jumped.

_(withheld) calling_

He looked over at Ermergerd-Lock as the phone continued to ring. "Should I…?"

"Nope. Now, a few hours after his last vic, he receives a text that'd only makes sense for the vic and killer. If anyone else found the phone, they'd brush it off. But the murderer…" The phone cut off and Ermergerd-Lock smiled. "…would panic."

He flipped the lid and Jawn began to calm down. Ermergerd-Lock put on his jacket and started to walk towards the door.

"Have you told the police?"

"They prosult me, not the other way around. Besides, four people are dead- there isn't time to talk to the police."

Jawn frowned again. "Well, if there's no time for them, why me?"

He looked up at Ermergerd-Lock who was pouting. "Mrs Houdini took my skull. I may have to replace it with hers. Haha! Joking, of course." He grabbed his coat from behind the door and slipped it on while looking at Jawn.

"So I'm your skull substitute."

"Bullseye! Don't panic, you're doing great." Everyone stood still, staring at each other. "Well? You coming or what?"

"You want me to come with?"

"Well, you could just watch telly or you could come too. I prefer company when I go out. I think better. The skull _does _attract attention, so you're fine. Why? There a problem?"

"Uh, yeah, Sergeant Minivan…"

"Groan, what's she done this time?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, running his fingers through his hair.

"She said you enjoy this, murder and crime and stuff."

"Yeah, yeah. But, I did say dangerous and here we are. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be downstairs. You're welcome to come."

Jawn sat in silence for a second before jumping up. "Fuck me. This is ridic." He ran outside and caught up to Ermergerd-Lock quickly. "Where are we going?" Jawn asked, throwing his stick in the air as they walked.

"Northumberland Street's a five-minute walk from here."

"Wait, you think the killer is stupid enough to turn up?"

Ermergerd-Lock shook his head. "No, I think he's brilliant. The brilliant ones are desperate to get caught." Jawn frowned and his eyebrows furrowed. "They want the spotlight, the applause of being caught and having the recognition they feel they deserve. It's brilliant!"

"Y-yeah. I'm sure."

"Now that we know his victims were abducted, everything changes. All his vics disappeared from busy streets, crowded places, places with witnesses. No-one saw them go, though. If someone's being abducted, especially a woman by a man, the general public flips their shit. Why didn't anyone?" He frowned and tried to focus his thoughts about. "Who do we trust even though we don't know them? Who passes unnoticed wherever they go and hunts in the middle of a crowd?"

"I dunno," Jawn replied. "Who?"

"No idea. But the answer is the killer. Now, hungry?"


	12. Chapter 12

The duo walked into a small restaurant. A waiter approached them.

"Ermergerd-Lock, welcome. Take a seat," the waiter said, pointing to a table by the window.

"Thanks, bro." Ermergerd-Lock took off his coat and sat down at the table, looking out the window. The waiter skedaddled and Jawn looked at Ermergerd-Lock. "Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Keep your eyes off me and on it."

Jawn looked over at the building across the road and frowned. "He isn't just gonna walk over and ring the doorbell. Like, what do you say? 'Erm, hullo, I'm a serial killer and I believe that there is a woman here who I killed yesterday. Her name is Jennifer? Can I speak with her?'" Jawn asked with a stupid voice. "He isn't mad."

"He has killed four people. He's unpredictable."

At Ermergerd-Lock's words, Jawn frowned. "O…okay, I suppose."

While they watched, someone approached their table. "Ermergerd-Lock," the man said.

Ermergerd-Lock looked over at the man and smiled. They shook hands and the bro winked at Jawn.

"Anything you want on the menu is free for you, Ermergerd-Lock." He put two menus on the table and clapped Ermergerd-Lock on the shoulder. "On the house for you and your date."

Ermergerd-Lock smiled up at the man and looked over at Jawn. "Are you hungry?"

While Ermergerd-Lock flicked through the menu, Jawn frowned. "I'm not his date."

"This man," the bro started, "got me off a murder charge."

"Oh, I'm sorry, so rude. Jawn, this is Angelato. Angelato, this is Jawn Wats-Off," Ermergerd-Lock suddenly said. Angelato and Jawn shook hands. "Three years ago, I proved that at the time of a disgustingly vicious and bloody triple murder, Angelato was in a completely different part of town, robbing an ice-cream shop."

"He cleared my name," Angelato beamed to Jawn.

Ermergerd-Lock frowned. "Well, a _bit,_ I mean, you still got charged for holding up an ice-cream parlor. But, whatever. Now, anything happening opposite?"

"Nothing," Angelato said to Ermergerd-Lock before looking over at Jawn. "But this man, I'd have gone to prison!" Angelato looked over at Ermergerd-Lock again. "I love you, man!"

"Thanks, Angelato. You did go to prison, anyway." Ermergerd-Lock rolled his eyes.

"I'm gonna get you kids a candle for the table," Angelato said to Jawn. "It's more romantic." He winked and walked away.

As he did so, Jawn called out "I'm not his date!" but to no avail. Everyone still thought they were gay.

"Look, you may as well eat. We could be waiting for a while. We never gave a time… should've given a time. We could be here all night. We could never go home. I'm kidding. We'll go home tomorrow at six pm if he doesn't come by soon."

While Ermergerd-Lock babbled on for a bit, Angelato returned with a lit tea-light candle. He put it on the table before giving Jawn a wink and a thumbs up and walking away.

"Yep. Thanks," he all but spat while looking down at the candle.

A little while later, Jawn's food was placed in front of him and he started to eat. There was food all over the table, on his lap, down his shirt and all over his face. Such a messy eater. Ermergerd-Lock was mildly embarrassed.

"Perjrnjgeejbk dfbnkzblzaxfbjkgfvfz," Jawn said, his mouth full of food.

"I'm sorry?" Ermergerd-Lock asked with a pretentious look, looking down his nose at the feral mess that was Jawn Wats-Off.

He swallowed the food and spoke again. "In real life, there are no such things as arch-enemies. It doesn't happen."

"That's a shame. Awfully dull."

"In that case, who did I meet?"

"What do real people have in their so called 'real lives'?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, drumming his fingers on the table, staring out the window at the building across the road.

"I dunno. Friends, acquaintances, people they like, people they don't, girlfriends, boyfriends, fiancés, wives, husbands, partners, parents, family, stuff like that, I guess."

"Dull."

This was his chance. This was Jawn's chance to find out about Ermergerd-Lock's relationship status. After Ermergerd-Lock was looking at Jennifer's jewellry, he wanted to find out if there was another reason besides the case at hand. Thinking on it now, it was a silly thing to say but he was too close to asking that it couldn't not be asked. "So you don't have a girlfriend?"

"Girlfriend? No, not my area, TBH."

Jawn frowned at the answer. "Mm…" not the answer he though. But then another thought hit him. Not his area? Did that mean…? "D'you have a boyfriend?" The detective's eyebrows furrowed and he gave Jawn a sharp look. "Which is cool, by the way."

"I know it's cool. I know there is nothing wrong or humiliating about sexual orientation." He still gave Jawn a sharp look.

Jawn gave a smile, hoping Ermergerd-Lock would take it as a peace offering. "So you've got a boyfriend?"

"No," Ermergerd-Lock sighed, very annoyed. Why was this man asking him questions about his love life? It's absurd.

The doctor sighed. Did he just dig himself an awkward hole? "Right. Okay. You're unattached like me." He looked down at his plate, feeling awkward, awkward, awkward, _awkward_! "Fine. Good."

He started to eat again and Ermergerd-Lock frowned. He looked back out the window and felt awkward himself. He looked over at Jawn, babbling out: "Jawn, um, you should know that I'm pretty much married to my job. Like, thanks for your interest, but I'm not looking for anything… ya know…"

Jawn blushed at Ermergerd-Lock's statement. "No. No, not at all. I'm not asking to- no. I just- I'm just saying, it's all cool. Whatever floats your boat. Just wanted a heads up for what I might expect when living on Baker Street."

As Jawn looked down to his food, Emergerd-Lock nodded. "Kay." He looked out the window again and frowned. "Hang on a diddly-darn second! Look across the street. There's a taxi." Jawn looked out at the taxi parked on the side of the street, the boot pointing towards the restaurant. "It's stopped. No-one getting in, no-one getting out."

"Like Wonka's chocolate factory," Jawn muttered to himself.

Emergerd-Lock ignored the stupid observations. He could see a male passenger looking through the windows, as if looking for someone in particular. "Why a taxi? Is that clever?"

"That's him?" Jawn asked. Ermergerd-Lock looked away from the cab and back at Jawn.

"Don't stare. It's rude," he muttered before kicking the doctor under the table.

"Ow! _You're _staring!"

"We can't _both _stare! That's so suspicious! What the hell, Jawn?!" he whispered, furiously. Ermergerd-Lock stood up and put his coat and scarf back on. They both walked outside, Jawn pulling his jacket on as they walked out the door. Ermergerd-Lock kept his eyes fixed on the cab. The passenger looked out the back window and locked eyes with Ermergerd-Lock. A second later, he turned back to the front and the cab took off. "Mother of GOD!" Ermergerd-Lock exclaimed and began to run after the cab, ignoring the traffic on the road, like the bus and the truck that were coming straight at him from opposite sides of the road.

The driver of both the bus and the truck slammed on their brakes and Jawn ran after Ermergerd-Lock, yelling apologies as he ran. They ran up the road before stopping, realising they couldn't catch the cab.

"I got the cab number," Jawn reassured Ermergerd-Lock.

"Woopdee-fucking-doo," Ermergerd-Lock replied. He started to think about how to catch up with the cab, thinking about the problems the cab would get on the way. Ermergerd-Lock is kinda magic. "Right turn, one way, road works, traffic lights, bus lane, pedestrian crossing, turn left only, traffic lights. Right, alternative route, let's go!"


	13. Chapter 13

The duo started to run again, not looking out for people in the way and whatnot. They jumped over buildings, water-ski'ed across the River Thames, all to catch up with the cab a few miles away from the restaurant. Finally, they jumped in front of the cab, the breaks screeching to a halt.

"POLICE! OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!" Ermergerd-Lock screamed, alerting unwanted attention, namely from a police officer having dinner with his wife not too far away from there. He slammed the door open and looked at the anxious passenger. "Fuck. You're from Santa Monica and just arrived. Well, fuck me hard!"

Jawn frowned. "How'd ya know?"

"Luggage," Ermergerd-Lock panted out, out of breath. "This is probably your first trip to London."

"Sorry, are you guys police?" the passenger said.

"Yep." Ermergerd-Lock flashed an ID quickly before putting it in his pocket. "Everything alright?"

"Uh, I suppose. You did just scream at the taxi until it stopped. Other than that, yeah, I guess…"

"Great," Ermergerd-Lock said. "Welcome to London, we hope you enjoy your time."

He slammed the door and stalked away down the road. Jawn opened the door and blushed. "Any problems just let us know."

The man nodded and Jawn smiled politely before closing the door gently. The taxi sped off and Jawn ran to catch up with Ermergerd-Lock.

"So, just a cab who happened to slow down and park right in front of the building despite the fact he really had no reason to be there at all?" Jawn asked.

"Basically," Ermergerd-Lock all but spat.

Jawn sighed. "And not the murder."

"Nope."

"Wrong country. Fab alibi," Jawn added.

"You don't have to keep talking."

"Where'd you get the ID?" Jawn asked, ignoring the previous statement. "Wait, Detective Inspector Lestrade? Isn't that Papa Bear?"

"Yep. I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You're welcome to keep that. I've got a shit-load at home." Jawn nodded and looked back at the place the cab just was before letting out a small giggle. "What?"

"Nothing. Just, 'Welcome to London, enjoy your stay'," Jawn said.

"Improvisation. There's more than one reason why I majored acting at university," Ermergerd-Lock said before looking back at the cab. There was a police officer, the one who had dinner with his wife, talking to the passenger who pointed down the road. "Get ready to run."

"I'm always ready," Jawn said with a wink.

Some fabby music started to play again. Jawn wished it wasn't all in his head so he could by the album on iTunes, or better yet, pirate it.

When the boys arrived back at Baker Street, Jawn hung up his jacket and leaned back against the wall, out of breath. Ermergerd-Lock draped his coat over the bannister and smiled before joining Jawn against the wall.

"That was ridic," Jawn panted out. "The most ridic thing I've ever done!"

"Hells yeah. And you invaded Afghanistand," Ermergerd-Lock added.

The duo started to laugh as they caught their breath and let their pulses decrease to their usual places.

"Wait, why aren't we back at the restaurant? I'm still hungry."

"Angelato will keep an eye out for us. But it was a long shot."

"So," Jawn started, "what are we doing here?"

"We live here, idiot. So we're gonna pass the time here." Ermergerd-Lock paused before continuing. "And proving a point."

Jawn frowned. "What point?"

"MRS HUDSON! JAWN'LL TAKE THE FLAT!" he screeched.

"Says who?" Jawn asked, crossing his arms.

"The man at the door, bitch!"

There was a knock on the door and Ermergerd-Lock winked at Jawn. The doctor walked over and answered the door, seeing as no-one else was making a move to.

When he opened the door, Angelato was standing there with a smile. "Ermergerd-Lock texted me. Said you forgot this and that you'd need it back."

Jawn looked at the object in Angelato's hand and smiled. "Oh. Thanks."

"Not a problem, Jawn. I also put your food in a takeaway container. Ermergerd-Lock said you'd still be hungry. Hope to see you again soon. Tootles, Ermergerd-Lock!"

The detective raised a hand at the man and winked before the door was closed, Jawn holding his stick and his food.

Mrs Hudson rushed into the room and pinned Ermergerd-Lock against the door, her forearm against his neck. "What the _fuck _have you done, you little shit!" When Ermergerd-Lock gave her a confused and startled look, she removed herself from him and pointed to his flat. "Upstairs."

The Baker Street Boys rushed up the stairs, Ermergerd-Lock ahead of Jawn. Gavin Lestrade was sitting in an armchair that pointed to the door, a large sheet of plastic covering everything that Lestrade touched. Various police officers were rummaging through Ermergerd-Locks stuff.

"What the deuce is happening?!" Ermergerd-Lock exclaimed, looking wildly around the flat.

"I knew you'd find the case. You were going on so much about it I figured you'd get it. I'm not _that _stupid!" Gavin replied with a laugh, a laugh that was echoed by various officers.

"You can't break into my flat! I'll report you!"

"First of all, you can't withhold evidence, you genius little thing you. Secondly, I didn't break in." Lestrade waved his hands about while talking, a smirk on his face.

"Well, exqueeze me, what the devil do you call this?!" Ermergerd-Lock exclaimed, flailing his arms about. Jawn's eye twitched as Ermergerd-Lock continued to use his catch phrase.

Gavin looked about at all his officers and provided Ermergerd-Lock and Jawn an innocent smile. "It's a drugs bust. We have reason to believe that there are drugs used in this flat."

_'Wrong flat, the junkie's downstairs,_' Jawn thought. What he _really _said was "This guy? A junkie? Are you shitting me?!"

Ermergerd-Lock turned around and towered over Jawn. "Shut up, now, please, lil bitch."

"Yeah, uh, I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day and not find a diddely-darn thing, you dig?"

"Jawn, I swear to God, if you don't shut up, forget moving in."

"Yeah, but come on ..." he looked into Ermergerd-Lock's eyes, holding the gaze, the intense gaze filled with mild sexual tention. "No."

"What?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

"You? Really?"

"Shut up, for Christ's sake!" He looked back at Gavin and crossed his arms. "I'm not your sniffer dog."

"No, you're right. Anderson's my sniffer dog!" He pointed to the kitchen where the Baker Street Boys looked over.

Several more officers were in the kitchen, Anderson among them.

"Hey, Ermergerd-Lock," he greeted sarcastically, waving at the furious detective.

"Anderson?! What the fuck?! What are you doing on a drugs bust? This isn't your area!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled, tears welling in his eyes as he started to jump upside down.

Jawn recognised this straight away as a temper tantrum.

"I volunteered!"

"They all did, actually," Lestrade added. "None of them are strictly speaking on the drugs squad but they were _very _keen, espesh when I mentioned you, Ermergerd-Lock!"

"What the fuck?!" someone yelled from the kitchen. Ermergerd-Lock looked in to see Minivan holding a glass jar. "Are these fuckin' human eyes?! What the fuck was goin' through your head?! I warned you, Jawn!"

"Put those back! It's for an experiment!"

"They were in the microwave!" she said, opening the lid and lifting it to her nose.

"For a reason!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled back, tears streaming down his face.

"Keep looking, guys," Lestrade said before standing up and walking over to the detective. "Or, you can behave and help us do this properly."

"This is childish. For Christ's sake, Papa Bear!" Ermergerd-Lock cried before stamping his foot and crossing his arms.

"_You're _childish. Look, I'll tell them to stand down, but this is our case, Ermergerd-Lock. I'm inviting you in but you can't just run off and get the killer on your own, okay? You need to talk to us and let us know what's happening. Understand, Ermergerd-Lock?" Lestrade asked.

"So-so you're gonna bully me with a pretend drugs bust?" Ermergerd-Lock cried out, stamping the floor.

"It's all pretend until someone finds something, you dig?"

"I'M CLEAN!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled out, crying and whining. He fell to the ground and started to thump the ground with his fists.

"Is all of your flat clean, too?"

"I DON'T EVEN SMOKE!" Ermergerd-Lock continued, ignoring Gavin.

"Neither do I," Gavin said, rolling up his sleeve and showing Ermergerd-Lock the patch on his arm.

Ermergerd began to cry and thumping the ground even harder. Jawn looked over at Gavin and sighed. "He's wearing a patch, too. I saw him with three earlier tonight," he competed over the noise of Ermergerd-Lock whining and crying.

The detective was beginning to lose his energy. A few minutes past and Ermergerd-Lock appeared to have cried himself to sleep on the floor of the lounge room. The officers had been called off and they were all sitting around the lounge room, waiting for Ermergerd-Lock to wake up.


	14. Chapter 14

"Alright," Jawn sighed before leaning down and shaking Ermergerd-Lock's shoulder gently. "Come one, Ermergerd-Lock, wake up. Lestrade wants to talk to you and then you can go to sleep."

Ermergerd-Lock rubbed his eyes and looked up at Jawn, Gavin, Minivan and Anderson. "What?"

Gavin crouched down by the sleepy detective and wrapped his arms around him. "It's okay, Ermergerd-Lock. Just, consult us more often, alright?"

The detective nodded and wiped his nose on his sleep. After pulling a face, Lestrade moved away and nodded at Minivan. She took out some anti-bacterial spray. He put his arms out and she sprayed him until he felt comfortable and the air was thick.

"We found Rachel, by the way," Lestrade called over his shoulder at Ermergerd-Lock.

He froze and looked at Gavin.

"Really? Who is she?"

"Jen's only daughter."

Ermergerd-Lock frowned and ran his fingers through his hair. "Why would she write her daughter's name?"

"Forget Rachel," Anderson added. "We found the case. According to a certain psychopath, whoever had the case was the murder and we found it."

"He's not a psychopath, Anderson. He's a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research."

"I'm not a psychopath, lil bitch! I'm a high-functioning sociopath. Do your goddamn research!" Lestrade and Ermergerd-Lock said at the same time before looking back at each other.

"You need to bring Rachel in. We've gotta question her. There's so much to-"

"She's dead, Ermergerd-Lock," Gavin replied.

"Excellent! That's fab!" Jawn frowned at Ermergerd-Lock's enthusiasm. "When, where, why, how? What's the connection?"

"Well, she's been dead for fourteen years," Gavin started. "Actually, she was never technically alive. Rachel was her still-born daughter. There is no connections of the deaths."

While Jawn gave a sad grimace, Ermergerd-Lock looked confused. "Are you sure? That doesn't sound right… Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments?! Yeah, you're totally a sociopath," Anderson huffed.

"Fuck off, Anderson! She didn't just _think _about her daughter in her last seconds. She scratched the name into the floorboards with her fingernails while dying. That was effort- that was pain. How 'bout we try and re-enact the death with you? See how you find it easy to scratch a name into the floor. No, you'd give up after a bit."

There was silence as everyone thought about what he said.

"Well, we know that he makes them take the poison themselves. Maybe he talks to them and talked to her about her daughter's death. Like, bro, insults. Isn't this supposed to be your thing?" Jawn asked.

Ermergerd-Lock sighed. "But that was aaaaaaaaaaaages ago. Wh'd she still be upset?" Everyone in the room glared at Ermergerd-Lock. He was being oh so insensitive. He glanced over at Jawn and frowned. "Not good?"

"Not good at all," Jawn replied, looking around at all the offended people in the room.

"Right, sure, but think, guys," Ermergerd-Lock said, trying to deflect the attention. "If you'd be murdered, in your last seconds, what would you say?"

"God, for fuck's sake, let me live or I will be so mad," Jawn replied, tears welling in his eyes.

"Use your imagination, Jawn. Jesus Christ."

"I don't have to. Afghanistan, rembember?"

"No," Ermergerd-Lock started. "I mean if you were clever, really clever. Like, Jen Wilson, she ran a string of lovers. What the frick frack paddy wack would she think? She's smart. She's trying to tell us something. That's why, Anderson, she's not fucking German! Stop trying to spread that."

There was a knock on the door frame and everyone turned to see Mrs Houdini there. "Your taxi's here, Ermergerd-Lock."

"Fuck off, Mrs Houdini. I didn't order a taxi. I ordered Chinese but not a taxi," he spat out, starting to pace around his flat.

"What a mess," Mrs Houdini started. "What were they searching for?"

Jawn frowned and looked around at the police officers before back at Mrs Houdini. "It's a drugs bust."

She paled and began to sweat. "They're just for my hip, herbal soothers, I swear!"

"Everyone shut up, don't move, don't think! Anderson, turn around, you're hideous and it's disturbing!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled.

"What? My face?"

Lestrade sighed. "Everyone, quiet and still. Anderson turn around."

"For Goodness sake!"

"Back, now! Christ!" Lestrade yelled.

"Think. Think think think think _think!_" Ermergerd-Lock muttered to himself.

"But your taxi?"

"MRS HOUDINI!" He yelled at her.

She gasped and rushed down the stairs.

"Oh," he suddenly stopped and gasped. "Yes! She was ever so clever! Clever, clever, clever! Much clever than you lot! She's dead and she smarter! She didn't lose her phone! She _planted _it! She _knew _when she got out of the car that she was going to die so she left her phone for us to get to her killer."

"How?" Lestrade asked, frowning at Ermergerd-Lock.

"Rachel," Ermergerd-Lock continued, ignoring Lestrade's stupid question. Everyone looked at the detective, confused. "Don't you see? Rachel! Well, fuck me, you're all so stupid. Is it nice being an idiot? Is it nice having a low IQ? Is it nice not being me? It _must_ be so nice or you'd have tried to fix the problem. Rachel isn't _just _a name, idiots."

"Then what is Rachel?" Jawn asked, crossing his arms.

"Jawn, on the luggage, there's a label with an e-mail address," Ermergerd-Lock all but spat.

"Jennie dot pink at mephone dot org dot uk," Jawn read out.

"Oh, I'm an idiot sometimes. She doesn't have a laptop, so she did everything on her phone. It has to be a smart phone with e-mail enabled. Fabby dabby." He opened his laptop and got the Mephone's website up. "There's a website for her account, obvs. The username is her e-mails address." He typed it in and smiled. "And the password…"

"Rachel," Jawn said, realisation dawning on him. "Wow, that's pretty darn cool!"

"Great," Anderson said. "We can read her e-mails. Now what?"

"Anderson, shut up. You lower the IQ of the whole street. We can do so much more than read her e0mails. It's got a GPS so if you loose it, you can find it on the website. She's leading us straight to the man who killed her."

"Unless he got rid of it," Lestrade said.

Jawn shook his head. "We know he didn't. We sent a text and he tried to call back."

The detective was getting frantic, waiting for it to work.

"Ermergerd-Lock," Mrs Houdini said, walking back into the flat. "The taxi driver-"

Ermergerd-Lock sighed. "Mrs Houdini, isn't it time for your evening soothers? Shoo." He got out of the chair in front of the laptop and looked over at Lestrade. Jawn sat down in the vacated chair and watched the pin wheel as the phone was being located. "We have to move fast, the battery won't last five-evas."

Mrs Houdini looked around anxiously, a man following her up the stairs.

"We'll just have a map reference, not a name," Lestrade argued.

"It's a start!"

"Ermergerd-Lock ..." Jawn started.

The detective ignored him and continued talking to Lestrade. "It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It's the first proper lead that we've had."

Jawn sighed. "Ermergerd-Lock, pls."

"What? Where? Quick."

Everyone froze as Jawn said: "here. 221B Baker Street."

"How can it be here? How?" Ermergerd-Lock asked.

"Maybe it fell out of the case when you brought it in here."

"We texted him and he called back," Jawn told Lestrade.

Lestrade told the officers to look for the phone; despite the fact that it was obvious there was no way it could really be there.


	15. Chapter 15

_'Who do we trust, even if we don't know them?' _Ermergerd-Lock thought. "Of course," he muttered to himself. _'Who passes unnoticed wherever they go?' _He frowned at his second thought. It certainly wasn't the ice-cream man, anymore. But something clicked.

He thought about the situation in which everyone shared. Jimmy wanted a taxi. Jeffery, the boss ass bitch, wanted a taxi. Beth Gimmie-Port didn't have keys for her car, she'd need a taxi to get home.

_'Who hunts in the middle of a crowd?'_

Ermergerd-Lock was scrambling to get the clues together. Jennifer would have needed a lift. She'd have used a taxi.

His phone suddenly made a trill and he squealed. "A text! Love those! Never get enough," he rambled before pulling his phone from his pocket.

_Come with me_

He paled. He knew who it was. A cabbie. Wow. It was probably that one that Ermergerd-Lock never talked to. That guy was a dick. Although, he had just divorced his wife, or something like that. The guy was a seedy person and Ermergerd-Lock sighed.

"Are you alright?" Jawn asked.

"Yeah, totes. BRB."

Jawn sighed. "How can the phone be here?"

"Dunno. Mrs Houdin's the killer?"

Ermergerd-Lock started to walk away as Jawn spoke again. "I'll call again."

"K."

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Out. BRB."

Jawn continued to call out, asking if Emergerd-Lock was alright. He was so done with Jawn. Like, shut up for a mo, Jawn! That'd be great! For fuck's sake!

When Ermergerd-Lock reached the bottom of the stairs, he shrugged on his coat and walked out the front door. There was a taxi half parked on the side of the road, half on the footpath. The driver, Jeff No-Hope was leaning against the cab.

"Taxi for Ermergerd-Lock Be'er-'olmes," the cabbie said with a smile.

Ermergerd-Lock stepped towards him and frowned. "I didn't order a taxi. WTF?"

"Doesn't mean you don't need one."

"You're the cabbie," Ermergerd-Lock started. "The one who stopped outside that street earlier with the American bro. It wasn't the quiet American, then, it was you."

"Well done," the cabbie said with a smile. "No-one ever thinks about the cabbie. It's like you're invisible. Just the back of a 'ead. Clear advantage for a serial killer."

"Before we continue, did you get my book reference? _The Quiet American_?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, smiling at the man.

"No. 'Course not. Shitty books aren't on the back of my mind all the time. I don't sit 'ere and try 'n incorpora'e references inta everyday life," the cabbie said.

"Boring. How are you a serial killer? What, do you bore people to death? Do they commit suicide because you're so boring? Do you tell them about the 'good old days' where everything was better, you were treated with more respect, and then they take the poison?"

The cabbie frowned. "Can we continue? I had a thing going on. I just said it's a clear advantage for a serial killer and you interrupted to talk about a book."

"Right, right." Ermergerd-Lock took a few more steps forward and looked up at the window of his flat. "Is this a confession?"

"Yes, sir. An' let me tell you something, Be'er-'omes, if you get the coppers, I won't run. I'll stay here, quietly and let 'em take me down. Cross my 'eart."

"Why?" Ermergerd-Lock asked.

"'Cause you're not gonna do that, are ya?"

"Why not?"

"I didn't kill those four people, Mr Be'er-'omes. I spoke to 'em ... and they killed themselves. An' if you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing. I'll never tell you wot I said."

"No-one else will die though, and that's pretty good for every-one."

"An' you won't ever understand how those people died," Jeff said before getting into the driver's door. He sat down and waited.

Ermergerd-Lock bit his lip, contemplating what to do. He looked up at the flat window and then leaned his head into the cab window. "Alright, bitch, if I wanna understand, what do I have to do to get in on it?"

"Lemme take you on a right, Be'er-'omes." No-Hope turned to look at Ermergerd-Lock.

"Why? So you can kill me too?"

"I don't wanna kill you, Mr Be'er-'olmes," Jeff explained. "I'm gonna talk to yer ... and then you're gonna kill yourself."

He faced the front again and Ermergerd-Lock stood up straight, a few steps away from the cab. He had to make a decision and fast. He opened the cab door and got in, earning a smile from Jeff No-Hope.

"Can't refuse knowledge, can't refuse a challenge," Ermergerd-Lock muttered to himself while closing the door.

Jeff started the engine, startling Jawn up in the flat.

"Are you fucking kidding me?! He just got in a cab. Ermergerd-Lock just got in a cab and the cab is pulling away!"

"See? I told ya he did that. He bloody left again, as usual. Just gets up and heads out. We're wasting our time. This is bullshit. I turned down a date for this. I thought it'd be fun, catch Better-Homes with some weed or heroin or whatever, but instead, he jumps up and gets out. This is bullshit."

"I'm calling the phone," Jawn told Lestrade. "It's ringing out."

And ringing out it was. Ermergerd-Lock sat in the cab, watching as the pink phone Jeff was holding had lit up and was singing a fab song. Ermergerd-Lock sung along as Jeff put the phone in the cup holder.

"I'm so fancy!" Ermergerd-Lock sung along, bobbing in the back seat while Jeff drove, looking so done. What had he gotten himself into? He should've let Ermergerd-Lock get the cops. This was balderdash. But he couldn't get rid of the song, he was driving.

"If it's ringing," Lestrade said, "it's not here."

Jawn lowered the phone and reached over to the computer. "I'll search the location again."

"Does it matter?" Minivan started, frustrated. "He's a lunatic and he's always wasting our time. For fuck's sake!"

Lestrade sighed loudly at Minivan's words. She's right. Ermergerd-Lock took pleasure in screwing them all around. "Alrightyo, guys, let's head out. Anyone find any drugs or anything to put him behind bars?"

"Only Jennifer's case," Anderson muttered.

* * *

While everyone (other than Jawn and Mrs Houdini) cleared out of Baker Street, Ermergerd-Lock was busy watching the London scenery pass by. He wished "Fancy" would come back on. It was his favourite song.

"How did you find me?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh, I recognised yer, soon as I saw you chasing my cab. Ermergerd-Lock Be'er-'omes! I was warned about you. I've been on your website, too. Brilliant stuff! Loved it!

Ermergerd-Lock smiled. "Thanks you. But who warned you?"

"Just someone out there who's noticed you," Jeff replied with a shrug.

"Who?" Ermergerd-Lock asked while leaning closer to Jeff. He noticed a photo of two young kids taped to the dashboard. "Who'd notice me?"

"You're too modest, Mr Be'er-'omes."

Ermergerd-Lock smiled. Yeah, he was rather modest, in his opinion. Ermergerd-Lock loved to fish, too, so he replied with "I'm really not."

"You've got yourself a fan," Jeff replied, taking a left turn.

"Tell me more, tell me more! Like does he have a car?"

"That's all you're gonna know…" Jeff paused for some dramatic effect. "…in this lifetime."

Ermergerd-Lock couldn't help the un-ladylike snort at Jeff's words. "Seriously? That's so lame. Quick, give me the poison, I'll kill myself now, if _that's _the type of conversation I can expect. You just become more and more boring."


	16. Chapter 16

As Ermergerd-Lock infuriated Jeff more and more with his rambling of how Jeff was oh-so boring, Lestrade shrugged on his coat.

"Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?"

Jawn shrugged at the DI. "I dunno. You know him better than I do. I met him yesterday."

"Five years, one day, with him, it doesn't make a difference. I don't know him at all."

"So why do you put up with him?"

"Because I'm desperate and Ermergerd-Lock rocks, that's why," Lestrade replied with a frown. "And because Ermergerd-Lock Holmes is a fab boss ass bitch. And I think one day, if we're very, very lucky, he might even be a good boss ass bitch."

Lestrade gave a small smile at Jawn and walked out of the flat with all the other officers, trying not to touch any of them, though.

* * *

The cab skidded around a corner, two identical buildings coming into view. Jeff slammed the breaks on the car as he was about to hit one of them. He killed the engine and opened the door for Ermergerd-Lock.

"Chivalry isn't dead," Ermergerd-Lock muttered while clambering out. "Where are we?"

"Stop being a shit, Ermergerd-Lock. You know damn well where we are."

"Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why here?"

"Because fuck you, that's why. It's open; cleaners are in. One thing about being a cabbie: you always know a nice quiet spot for a murder. I'm surprised more of us don't branch out."

"How do you get your vics to just walk in?" Jeff raised a gun and pointed it at Ermergerd-Lock who rolled his eyes and looked away. "Boring."

"Don't worry, it gets better," Jeff promised.

"You can't make people take their own lives at gunpoint," Ermergerd-Lock argued. "That's cheating. You said you talked to them, not this bullshit! What the hell?"

"I don't. It's much better than that." He put the pistol down and smiled. "I don't need this with you. You'll follow me anyways."

Jeff walked away confidently and Ermergerd-Lock grimaced. How was he so predictable?

* * *

Jawn was in the lounge room at Baker Street, getting his stuff together cause he gonna go home. He grabbed his stick from on top of some boxes and fidgeted with it as he walked out of the room. When he reached the door, a noise startled him from inside the room.

He spun around to see the laptop on the Mephone site. A map had appeared on the screen and Jawn ran over staring at it. He had a location and he had to get there. As Ermergerd-Lock had once said: "there's no time to [consult] the police, lil bitch!" Jawn dropped the stick as he grabbed the laptop.

"I'll get you, you murder, you!" Jawn grumbled out before running down the flat. "Police are gone, Mrs Houdini!" he called as he opened the front door.

"Thank fuck!" Mrs Hudson called from her flat before lighting up a joint.

For the second time that evening, he forgot his cane. In the wise words of Hermione Granger: "what an idiot."

* * *

Back at Roland-Kerr College, Jeff walked through the building, trying to find an empty room that would be fabulous for a suicide. Ermergerd-Lock walked right behind him and watched as Jeff opened a door to a large room. He flicked some switches and smiled while looking around the classroom.

"Well, what do you think? It's up to you. You're the one who's gonna die 'ere."

"Your humble abode as very magnificent. But I won't be dying here. Not today," Ermergerd-Lock said with a smirk.

"That's what they all say," he replied glumly.

Jeff looked down at one of the benches and sighed. "Shall we talk?"

But he didn't wait for a reply. He was gonna sit down regardless. Ermergerd-Lock was going to commit suicide here whether he liked it or not.

Ermergerd-Lock grabbed a chair from the other side and sat down. "What a risk, Jeff. You swooped down like an eagle and plucked me out from under the eyes of about a dozen police. They're not _that _stupid. And Mrs Houdini has a superb memory. She'll recognise you."

"You call that a risk?" Jeff asked, reaching into his pocket. "_This _is a risk." He took out a screw top glass bottle that held a single capsule in it. It looked like the same bottle that all the dead peeps this episode had. Like the sharp ass bitch Sir Jeffery, that Jimmy kid, and Beth Gimmie-Port. If we didn't know that this Jeff was the killer, we'd think something fishy was going on here. "I like this bit. 'Cause you don't get it yet, do yer? But you're about to. I just have to do this." He pulled out another, identical bottle. Gasp! What? "You weren't expecting that, were yer?" No, Jeff, we certainly did not! "You're gonna love this."

"Love what?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, feeling mighty sus of this cabbie.

Jeff sat back in his chair and smiled. "Ermergerd-Lock Be'er-'omes. Look at you! 'Ere in the flesh. That website of yours, your fan told me about it."

"M-my fan?" Was Ermergerd-Lock getting popular? Was he gonna have fan fiction written abuot him? He just needed to build up the fanbase and include a "favourite fan fic" page on his site! SQUEAL!

"You're brilliant, you are. A proper genius. "The Science of Deduction, Insults, and Seduction." Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting 'ere, why can't people think?" Jeff looked pissed. "Don't it make you mad? Why can't people just think?"

"First, what's your opinion on the 'seduction' part of the website title? I dunno, I just think, I should get rid of it. Thoughts?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, playing with one of his curls.

"I- I dunno. It didn't really make sense. I mean, sure, whatever floats your boat, but there's no reason."

Ermergerd-Lock looked down, irritated. "I thought it was good when I started it. I was high at the time, bee tea dubs. Alright, second, it 'don't make me mad', it _does _make me mad. Like, you see yourself as a genius, but please, use English properly. I'll forgive your accent, that's not really your fault. Wait a sec, you see yourself as a genius?"

"Don't look it, do I? Funny little man drivin' a cab. But you'll know better in a minute. Chances are it'll be the last thing you ever know."

Ermergerd-Lock scoffed and looked down at the bottles, shaking his head. "Okay, two bottles. Please explain."

"There's a good bottle and a bad bottle," Ermergerd-Lock started. "You take the pill from the good bottle, you live; take the pill from the bad bottle, you die. Easy peasy."

"Both bottles are of course identical."

"No shit."

"And you know which is which."

"I'm not an idiot."

"But I don't."

"Well, it wouldn't be a game if you knew. You're the one who chooses."

Ermergerd-Lock rolled his eyes. "Why should I choose? I've got nothing to go on. What's in it for me?"

"I 'aven't told you the best bit yet. Whatever bottle you choose, I take the pill from the other one – and then, together, we take our medicine."

"Our medicine?" Ermergerd-Lock asked. "That's a stupid thing to say. But, whatevz. I'm still interested."

"I won't cheat. It's your choice. I'll take whatever pill you don't. You didn't expect this to happen, did you, Mr Be'er-'omes?

Ermergerd-Lock concentrated on the bottles. "So you gave the rest of them a choice."

"And now you," Jeff said. The detective looked up at the cabbie. "Take your time, get yourself together. I want your best game"

"It's not a game," Ermergerd-Lock scoffed. "It's chance."

Jeff shook his head. "I've played for time and I'm alive. This ain't chance, Mr Be'er-'omes, it's chess. It's a game of chess with one move and one survivor. This is the move." He placed one of the bottles in front of himself and one in front of Ermergerd-Lock. "Did I give you the good bottle, or the bad bottle? You can choose either."


	17. Chapter 17

Jawn was still in the taxi, the laptop sitting on his lap and his phone against his ear.

"No, Greg. I need to speak to him. It's important. An emergency," he said into the phone. The map on the screen showed the location of the phone. He looked up at the cab and frowned. "Left here, pls. LEFT! Fuck, are all the cabbies 'round here shit? I should probably move out've London. This is bullshit. Like, where the bloody fuck did you get your licence?"

"Watch it, or I'll take a right," The cabbie barked out, turned left.

Jawn paled and decided not to be a shit any longer and be nice to the cabbie.

* * *

"You ready yet?" Jeff asked. "Ready to play?"

"To play what? This is chance, fifty-fifty," Ermergerd-Lock scoffed.

Jeff shook his head. "You're not playin' numbers, you're playin' me. Did I give you the good or bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?"

"Still just chance," Ermergerd-Lock pouted.

"Four people in a row?" Jeff asked, crossing his arms. "It's not just chance."

"Luck."

"It's genius. I know 'ow people think," Jeff told Ermergerd-Lock, who rolled his eyes. "I know 'ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my 'ead." Ermergerd-Lock was getting frustrated. This was ridic. He should've gotten the police out of the flat ASAP. "Everyone's so stupid, even you." The detective looked up at the cabbie. "Or maybe God just loves me."

"Either way," Ermergerd-Lock muttered, "you're wasted as a cabbie."

* * *

The cab skidded around the corner and parked right next to another car.

"Thanks," Jawn muttered as he clambered out, holding the laptop to his chest.

Of course, the map couldn't really pin point the exact place the phone was, which is pretty darn inconvenient. So, Jawn paid the cabbie and ran into one of the buildings, taking a fifty-fifty.

* * *

Ermergerd-Lock folded his hands in front of his mouth and gazed at Jeff No-Hope intently. "So, you risk your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?"

Jeff looked down at the bottles. "Time to play."

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn. There's shaving foam behind your left ear. It's kinda gross and no-one's told you yet. In fact, there are traces from when it's happened before so you live on your own. You don't have anyone to tell you. Poor baby! But there's a photograph of children with their mother cut out," Ermergerd-Lock continued, ignoring how upset Jeff was feeling. Ermergerd-Lock didn't really care. "If she died she'd still be there. The photograph's old but the tape is new. You think of your children but you can't see them. Naww. Sucks to be you, lil bitch. You're an estranged father. She took the kids but you heart them five ever. It hurts how much you do."

"Well done, can we continue?"

"Your clothes are recently laundered but everything's at least three years old… Keeping up appearances but not planning ahead. And here you are on a murder spree. Why?" Jeff tried to control himself when Ermergerd-Lock grimaced. "Three years ago. Is that when they told you?"

"Told me what?" Jeff all but spat.

"That you're a dead man walking. Like a zombie, but not dead yet."

"So are you."

"But you don't have much time, right?"

Jeff smiled and tapped the right side of his head. "Aneurism. Any breath could be my last."

"FUCK YEAH! I was right! God, if only Jawn were here, we'd high-five, I'd imagine. We only met yesterday but I can tell we'll have a long friendship that will last over six years. But, alright, enough about me. So, because you're dying, you murdered four people?"

"Outlived, Mr Be'er-'omes. I've out lived four people and the most fun you can 'ave on an aneurism."

"Yes, but that's not all," Ermergerd-Lock continued. "You didn't kill 'cause you're bitter. Love is a much better motivator. This has to do with your kids."

"You are good, ain't you?" Jeff asked as he looked at Ermergerd-Lock.

"How are they involved?"

Jeff smiled. "When I die, them kids won't get much. Not a lot of money in being a cabbie."

"Or serial killing," Ermergerd-Lock added.

"You'd be surprised."

"Then, surprise me. Nothing has really been a surprise."

"I 'ave a sponsor."

Ermergerd-Lock spluttered. "A what? This isn't an AA meeting, we're talking about."

"For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they'll be. You see? It's nicer than you think."

"Who'd sponsor a serial killer?"

"Who'd be a fan of Ermergerd-Lock Be'er-'omes."

"Fuck off. I'll get my fan fiction one day."

"You're not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There's others out there just like you, except you're just a man... and they're so much more than that."

"What d'you mean, more than a man? An organisation? What?" Ermergerd-Lock was beyond confused.

"There's a name no-one says, an' I'm not gonna say it either. Now, enough chatter. Pick a bottle for Christ's sake."

* * *

"Ermergerd-Lock?" Jawn called as he ran through the corridors. "Ermrergerd-Lock!"

This was a really irrellavant thing to just randomly plop down, but nonetheless, we see that Jawn is developing feels for Ermergerd-Lock, enough to yell his name while running down a corridor in a place he's never been before. Take that as you please.

* * *

"What if I don't wanna choose? I could just walk out, grab the police."

Jeff sighed, disappointed that it had succumbed to this. He lifted the pistol and pointed it at Ermergerd-Lock's head.

"You can take the fifty-fifty," he started, "or I can shoot you in the head."

"I'll have the gun, thanks," Ermergerd-Lock said, calmly, a small smile on his face.

"You sure?"

Ermergerd-Lock nodded. "Fo sho."

"You don't wanna phone a friend?"

"The gun, bitch!"

Jeff frowned as he slowly squeezed the trigger, a small flame coming from the other end of the nozzle.

"Well done."

"Fuckin' yeah! I know a real gun when I see it and I just proved it! Woo!"

"None of the others did."

"Obliviously. Well, I'm off. See you in court, bitch!" Ermergerd-Lock started to walk to the door when Jeff stopped him.

"First, it's obviously. Obliviously and obviously have very different meanings. Second, did you figure it out?"

Ermergerd-Lock scoffed. "'Course I did."

"Which is the good bottle?"

"Child's play."

Jeff smiled. "That's not an answer, Mr Be'er-'omes." Ermergerd-Lock froze, the door ajar. "Which would you've picked? Just so I know if I'd 'ave beaten you." The bro closed the door and Jeff laughed. "Come on, play the game."

Ermergerd-Lock couldn't resist the challenge. He turned around and made his way back to Jeff, sitting down in front of him. He grabbed the one closest to Jeff and frowned. "This one."

"Oh. Interesting."

Meanwhile, Jawn is frantically running through corridors, opening random doors, yelling Ermergerd-Lock's name. But it's a bit long so he settled for "ERR!" Some of the cleaners had thought there was a zombie apocalypse and had hidden under tables. Others couldn't hear him over their solo renditions of 'Sweet Dreams (Are Made of These)'.

As everyone in the other building got frantic and scared, or sung their lungs out, Jeff opened his bottle and tipped the capsule into his hand before holding it up and looking at it closely.

"So what d'you think?" he asked, looking up at Ermergerd-Lock. "Shall we?"

"ERRR!" Jawn screetched as he pulled another door open. It was another blank and he felt tears well in his eyes.

Jeff smiled. "Really, what do you think? Can you beat me?"

As he stood up, Jawn jumped a few steps in a large flight of stairs, still looking for his new hombre.

"Are you clever enough to bet your life?"

Jawn burst through another door and found Ermergerd-Lock, locking eyes with Jeff.

"Are you fucking shitting me?! The wrong building?! FUCK!" Jawn yelled, horror in his eyes as he stared through the window at Ermergerd-Lock who was examining a small glass bottle. "Ermerggerd-Lock!" he yelled, to no avail.

"I bet you get bored, don't you. I know you do. A man like you..."

Ermergerd-Lock sighed. "Can everyone stop hitting on me today? First Jawn now you. Please, you're trying to kill me, avoid flirting. I'm not gonna kill myself any faster. Fuck me. Not literally."

The cabbie narrowed his eyes at the detective. "I was half-way though a sentence when you interrupted. I was going to say 'a man like you, so clever. But what's the point og being clever if you can't prove it?' So calm down and wait your turn. Alright?" Jeff fumed. Ermergerd-Lock grabbed the capsule and held it between his thumb and forefinger. "Still the addict. But this ... this is what you're really addicted to, innit? You'd do anything ... anything at all... to stop being bored.

"S'pose," Ermergerd-Lock muttered, beginging to bring the capsule towards his mouth.

Jeff mimicked his movement and smiled. "You're not bored now, are you? Innit good?"

The capsules were right up at their mouths when a gunshot rang out. Ermergerd-Lock stood there like 'woah! What?', just like the reaction to the boss ass bitch, Sir Jeffery Patterson, committing suicide, if you can remember back to chapter one, roughly, I don't know, many chapters ago.

Anyway, Jeff got hit in the chest and fell to the ground, scared and confused. Ermergerd-Lock dropped his pin in the confusion before turning around to see the hole in the window. Jawn was at the other side, lowering the gun and smiling. He was still a boss ass bitch, even though his therapist thinks not.

Ermergerd-Lock rushed over to look at the window and to see who fired the gun but no-one was in sight. It was almost magic. He turned around to look at Jeff again and picked up his pill before waving it in Jeff's face.

"Was I right? Was I right?!" he barked out. Jeff couldn't help but smile and laugh. He was in a large pool of blood, still in shock. But Ermergerd-Lock reminded him of Rick from _Young Ones._ "I was, wasn't I?" Ermergerd-Lock asked.

When Jeff didn't reply, Ermergerd-Lock threw the capsule at Jeff and yelled 'ah!' before saying "I hate you."

"Damn," Jeff muttered out, beginning to die even more.

"Okay, you're sponsor, who was it? I want a name."

"Narp."

"Yarp!"

"Narp."

"YARP!" Ermergerd-Lock yelled before pouting. "You're dying, but there's still time to hurt you so give me a name."

Jeff shook his head and grimaced. Ermergerd-Lock put his foot into Jeff's shoulder and grumbled out "always have to resort to torture." Jeff gasped as Ermergerd-Lock pressed harder.

"A name." Jeff cried out in pain, evoking no sympathy in Ermergerd-Lock. "Now." Jeff was getting tired and dead and generally pretty gross but Ermergerd-Lock put more weight on his foot. "The NAME, BITCH!"

"Mormon-Arty!" he screamed in agony while Ermergerd-Lock took a few paces back.

"What the hell kind of name is Mormon-Arty?" Ermergerd-Lock wondered while looking about the room.


	18. Chapter 18

Ermergerd-Lock sat on the back steps of an ambulance, an orange blanket around his shoulders. Gavin Lestrade waked towards Ermergerd-Lock and pointed at the blanket.

"That's very unhygienic. But, whatever."

"They keep putting it on my but I don't like it," Ermergerd-Lock said with a pout.

Gavin frowned. "It's for shock."

"I'm not in shock," Ermergerd-Lock spat out.

"Yeah but some of the guys wanna take photos so, keep it on." Gavin grinned and Ermergerd-Lock rolled his eyes.

He sighed. "Any sign of the shooter?"

"Nope. He cleared off before we got there. But that bro, I'm sure he'd have enemies. I s'pose they could've followed him or something. We got nothing to go on."

Ermergerd-Lock scoffed. "I wouldn't say that."

The DI rolled his eyes. "Okay, gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight."

"The bullet they just dug out of the wall was from a hand gun. For someone to kill over such a distance must be a fighter. His hands didn't shake about during the shot, so he's accumatised to violence. He didn't fire until I was in immediate danger so he's got a strong moral principle. You're probs looking for a man with a history of military service and nerves of steel." He looks over to see Jawn duck under the police tape. "Well, fuck me! You know what, Greg?"

"It's Gavin," he spat through clenched teeth.

"Ignore me. Just pretend I didn't say shit."

Gavin blinked a few times. "Sorry, what?"

"Ignore everything I've said since I walked out. It was the shock talking, making stuff up, I don't know. Can shock do that? It can now. I'm pretty darn rooten tooten special!" He got up and walked towards Jawn with wide eyes. What the frick prack paddy wack had he done? What would happen to Jawn?

"Where are you going?" Lestrade called out as Ermergerd-Lock walked away.

Ermergerd-Lock frowned. "Er, to talk about the rent. Yes. The rent. The renty renty rent."

"But I have questions, such questions!"

The detective rolled his eyes and looked over at Gavin. "Oh, now what? I'm in shock, bitch! I've got a fuckin' blanket to prove it! For fuck's sake!"

He shook the blanket around as if to prove a point.

"Ermergerd-Lock!"

"And I just caught you a serial killer… I s'pose. Like, he's dead, but we got him and we know he ain't gonna kill any more. So, result? I think yes. Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Alright," Gavin said. "See you tomorrow."

As he walked he slipped the blanket off his shoulders and put it in a bundle before chucking it into a window of the nearest police car.

"Um, Sergeant Minivan's just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn't it? Dreadful. Dreadful, dreadful, _dreadful_," Jawn muttered before clicking his tongue a few times.

"Good shot," Ermergerd-Lock whispered.

"Yes. Must've. It went straight through the, apparently."

Ermergerd-Lock chuckled. "You'd know. You ought to get the powder out of your fingers. You probs won't serve time for this but Christ, if I have to sit through a court case when I'm friends with you, I'll jump of Bart's," he said before laughing. "Anyways, you alright?"

Jawn smiled at Ermergerd-Lock's jokes. "Yeah, course I am."

"You just killed a bro."

"Not the first time," Jawn smiled. "Probably not the last either. But he sucked balls, ya know. Not very nice."

"Nah, he wasn't that chill, was he?"

Jawn laughed. "And frankly, a shit cabbie. He wouldn't have been paid. Can't really pick poket the dead, can you? Not morally, anyway. You just took their life, like, can you really take their cash? What, you gonna make it rain with dead people money? That's sick."

"Should've seen the route he used to get us here. Fuck me, I wanted to kill myself the moment we turned left off Baker street. That just about killed me."

Jawn started to giggle before coughing. "No, no we can't giggle at a crime scene. Shut up," he coughed out.

With a gasp, Ermergerd-Lock put his hands up in a surrendering pose. "You shot him, don't blame me.

"Keep your voice down!" Jawn yelled at Ermergerd-Lock while walking past Minivan. "Sorry, nerves, just a little on edge."

Minivan laughed and shook her head. "Nah, no problems. It's not like you just _killed _Jeff No-Hope, did ya?"

She continued to walk away to talk to Lestrade while Jawn and Ermergerd-Lock walked to the exit of the crime scene zone thingo, I dunno.

"You were gonna take that damned pill, weren't you?"

Ermergerd-Lock scoffed. "Course not. I figured you'd rock up eventually."

"No you didn't! Minivan was right, wasn't she? You get your kicks doing this, ey? You risk your life to prove you're clever."

"That's stupid," Ermergerd-Lock argued. "Why would I do that?"

"'Cause you're an idiot."

The Baker Street Boys smiled.

"Dins?" Ermergerd-Lock asked.

"Fricken yeah. I'm starving. I could eat a house."

"End of Baker Street, there's a good Chinese stays open 'til two," Ermergerd-Lock explained. "You can always tell a good Chinese by examining the bottom third of the door handle."

A car pulled up and that man who kidnapped Jawn and Armadillo walked out.

"Ermergerd-Lock, that's the man I was telling you about," Jawn replied, keeping his voice low.

"Christ. I know him, alright."

The man smiled before talking. "So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... though that's never really your motivation, is it?"

"What the fuck are you doing here? You know well and good I'll introduce you to Greg at the Christmas party, if you ever show."

"As ever, I'm concerned about you."

"I heard. You gotta keep your tweets to a minimum."

"Always so aggressive. Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?"

"For some reason," Ermergerd-Lock started, "not at all."

"We have more in common than you like to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... and you know how it always upset Mummy."

Jawn frowned. What did he just hear?

Ermergerd-lock just scoffed. "I upset her? Me? Aww hell now, lil bitch!"

"Wait, I'm sorry. Mummy? Who's Mummy? Are you my Mummy?" Jawn asked, adding the last question in for good mesure.

"Mother- our mother. This, unfortunately, is my brother Mycroft. Who has put on wait again."

"Losing it, in fact," Mycroft spat back.

"He's your brother?" Jawn asked Ermergerd-Lock.

"No shit."

"So he's not..."

"Not what?" Ermergerd-Lock asked, annoyed this conversation was going down at all.

"A criminal mastermind or somthin'?"

"Close enough," Ermergerd-Lock spat, looking at his brother.

"For goodness' sake. I occupy a minor position in the British government."

"Yeah, LOL, Mycroft. He's the British government. In his free time, he's the British Secret Service or the CIA, whatever mood he's in." Mycroft sighed as his stupid younger brother. What was the point of Ermergerd-Lock, anyway? "See ya, Mycroft. Try notta start a war on my way home. You know how it fuck's up traffic for me."

The detective started to stalk away down the street.

"So, when you say you're concerned about him, you actually are concerned? Like realz?"

"Yes, of course," Mycroft said with a frown. He wasn't used to people questioning him.

"So it's just a childish feud."

"He's always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners."

"Yeah. Fuck, that'd be shit." He looks over at Ermergerd-Lock who was still stalking off. "Sorry, I best be off." Jawn looked over at Armadillo. "Hello again."

"Hello," she smiled brightly.

"Yeah, we met earlier this evening. You broke your iPhone. I see you have a Blackberry now."

"Oh!" she said as if she remembered him, clearly not.

Jawn blinked back tears. "Right. Bye, kids."

Mycroft frowned. Did Jawn just call him a kid? "Goodnight, Doctor Wats-Off."

The doctor ran to catch up with Ermergerd-Lock and smiled. "So, dim sum."

"Mmm! I can always predict the fortune cookies. I'm pretty darn boss."

"No you can't," Jawn scoffed.

"I almost can. I do know that you got shot, though. In Afghanistand, not Iraqu."

Jawn laughed and shook his head. "Yeah, in my shoulder," he lied

"SHOULDER! I KNEW IT! TOLD YOU!" he smirked and continued to walk after fist pumping the air.

"You had no idea. Anyway, why are you saying Iraq so weird? There's no 'u' on the end."

Ermergerd-Lock sighed. "Oh shut up and write about it in your blog. I found it, by the way. That stupid blog of yours." Despite his harsh tone, Ermergerd-Lock had a smile on his face.

"Why are you smiling?"

"Mormon-Arty," he replied with a wink.

Jawn frowned. "What's Mormon-Arty?"

"No idea! Isn't it fab?!"

"I dunno. Look, Iraq has no 'u' on the end."

Ermergerd-Lock scoffed. "I took English as a young chap and I can tell you that Q is always followed by U. It's basic rules of English."

"They're more guidelines, actually. Most don't follow it. It's like 'I before e, except after c'. Like, exqueeze me, science."

"Yeah, I call it 'sky-ence' to remember."

"Like on your blog?"

Ermergerd-Lock nodded. "Oddly enough, that darn cabbie got it wrong. He called it 'science'. Like, bitch please, no."

The boys laughed while Mycroft and Armadillo watched their retreating figures.

"Shall we make like a baby and head out, sir?" Armadillo asked.

"Interesting, that soldier fellow. He could be the making of my brother – or make him worse than ever. Either way, we'd better upgrade their surveillance status. Grade Three Active."

"Sorry, sir," Anthea said as she looked up from her phone. "Whose status?"

"Ermergerd-Lock Better-Homes and Doctor Wats-Off," he said.

Everyone turned around to look as Jawn and Ermergerd-Lock walked off, starting to skip and do stupid dances. That's the type of thing they're into, after all. Jawn couldn't believe how ridic his life had been in the last two days. He was pretty darn sure that he was going to like it at Baker Street, with Mrs Houdini, Ermergerd-Lock and maybe that Armadillo. He wasn't really sure where they stood. He'd ask her on a date the next time he saw her.

The story came to an end as everyone saw the hero and heroine walking away. I'm kidding. Ermergerd-Lock had no heroine on him. Mrs Houdini hay be able to help, though, if you asked nicely enough. Such hero shot.

The scene froze and everything went black as some boss ass theme music that Ermergerd-Lock had sung before was playing loudly. Jawn was jealous that he couldn't pirate this. Maybe he'd start a band called The Baker Street Boys and he'd invite Gavin and Ermergerd-Lock to join. Mrs Houdini could be their first groupie. Then Jawn remembered he had no musical talent at all and the whole plan fell to shit. He'd just listen to it in his head instead.

**_The End… for now…_**

* * *

**A/N: **_Hey, darling reader!_

_So, my original plan since starting this story, was to end up doing every episode and since introducing the concept of Mormon-Arty, I'd absolutely _love _to continue this, espesh because I've had some fab reviews and you're all so fab. Kisses!_

_Rightyo, this is it for now._

The Blind Banker _is out now. Just go to my account and you'll find it :)_

_Thank you so much for reading and the fabulous reviews! I really appreciate it!_

_x_


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